Paint It Black
by pennaroyaltea
Summary: Skittery likes black. Skittery is antisocial. Skittery LOVES Sheena. Skittery is a punk. Rated for sex, drugs and suicidal refrences in later chappies. Modern day.
1. Teenage Labotomy xxx The Ramones

Disclaimer: i do not own any of the characters in newsies (im not too creative so ill leave it at that) 

Ok, this story kinda is based off me and my unsocialness and my amigos teasing me about it (lolz molly) and this dude at school who is really unsocial (yet exstremely hott.) and all his friends like ditched him but he didnt seem to care and yeah...

so please rr cause in all my other stories no one ever seems to and makes me mighty angry lolz.

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Past and Present

There walks a boy with rumpled black hair, brown eyes, and olive skin, dressed all in black. He wears a black sweatshirt with the black hood pulled up over his black head, over a black nirvana shirt, with black straight-leg jeans and black Martins. What a lucky fuck I am cause somehow that boy turns out to be me.

It's hard to even imagine that a year ago I didn't wear black. Hell, only last year I was wearing colorful jimmy Hendrix t-shirts and red Metallica hoodies that didn't make me squirm and go insane. I didn't jump at the sight of blue. I didn't freak when I wore green. Even yellow didn't make my skin crawl. Now my drawers are filled with black clothes and those tie-die Woodstock shirts are all are down in hell where they ought to be, along with every other shit-heap color.

I dunno what happened to me. I think I had a mental breakdown or something. I don't know. My shrink doesn't even know and that man knows everything. Suddenly, I just didn't like talking to people. In fact, I hated people in general and I sure as hell hated my 'friends' now referred to as 'those fuckers'. I hated going to parties. I hated socializing. I could give a fuck about who liked me and who didn't. Hell, I still don't! I was just happy by my self.

Ha! Can you believe that! A 15 year old boy saying he is happy by himself, no girls, no guy friends, no nothing! I think I'm one of the first punks to ever state that! But its how I feel. I just like to be alone. Its what makes me happy most of the time. That and blackness.

Now you and every other shrink in the city may ask yourself 'why black?' I mean; I'm sure as hell not Goth or Emo or shit. I'm sorta depressed but that's just in my genes (fucking chemical imbalance). Black…I dunno its just refreshing. It's a comfortable color; it makes me feel less vulnerable and like I can hide in it. Its stable. Ha! If the me last year could hear me talking right now...ha…he would kick my wussy ass. It's not only my weird obsession with black its my fear of all the other shit colors. There's enough blue in the damn sky, why where it on your shirt. And yellow…hell I never looked good in yellow anyways! Red is too fucking vibrant and makes me sick to my stomach…same with orange and green and purple, they all give me a migraine! Except for black… black is cool and clean and revitalizing.

So here I am…. Unsocial, detached, black wearing, friendless, incredibly depressed, Skittery. And I'm happy in hell.


	2. Circle Of Friends xxx Better Than Ezra

hey, sorry this chapter is so long (or maybe not if you like long chapters) ill try to update alot. please review and give me your opinions because that would be mucho helpful para mi story lolz (im so wonderful at spannish)

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"Hey skits, where you goin' for lunch?"

My head whipped around searching for the speaker; Cowboy.

I shrugged, leaning back hard in my chair so that my feet stretched towards the other end of the laboratory table.

"I dunno. Aren't you going with molly today, its Thursday?"

God, how I hated the two of them, always groping at each other in the hallways.

"Nah she's sick. So where you wanna go?"

I shrugged apathetically again and turned to face the front of the classroom where Mr. Chan was writing down our assignment on the board.

"Give me a pen." I demanded cowboy bluntly, reaching across the table to where he sat and taking a pen from his binder before he could even reply.

I gave him an acerbic smile and pointed to his folder where he had been doodling little anarchy A's all over the cover.

"Nice." I exclaimed mordantly, while writing the homework on the back of my hand.

Cowboy gave me toothy grin, stealing the pen from my grasp and continuing to draw more anarchy A's across the vast stretch of green plastic.

I stole another glance towards the front of the room where Mr. Chan continued to lecture the sub-conscious class on weather systems.

_Go to hell fucker_, I doodled on a blank sheet of paper with my own pencil.

Cowboy craned his neck to see what I had written. He tried hopelessly to suppress the smile slowly forming at his lips.

_You're an asshole Mr. Chan. Go fuck your mother and let us be_.

Again cowboy looked over at my binder, having to muffle his laughter, "Your such a bitch, Skittery."

Outside the bell signaling the end of 4th period rang.

"Yeah, I know," I responded wryly, closing my binder and stuffing it in my torn and over used backpack.

A few months ago I had forgotten to take my switchblade out of the front pocket of the bag after a camping trip and the knife had ripped the front pocket clean open so that fabric hung freely. Several mid size holes had also taken shape in the main part of the bag, but besides for the fact that my stuff often went missing, I could care less.

"C'mon." Cowboy nodded his head towards the open door at the front of the classroom, his equally mistreated bag slung over his shoulder listlessly.

"Man, you got a sweatshirt I could borrow?" I asked once we had reached the sophomore lockers on the third floor the building.

I was wearing my tie-dye jimmy Hendrix shirt and as more and more people passed us I felt more and more self-conscious. Shit, I wish I had let my mum give it to the good will.

"Nah, sorry man. Mush might though, his mum's always making him take an extra layer to school."

I nodded, reluctant to walk any farther with the ridiculous t-shirt on. Fuck, who in their right mind lets their goddamn son out of the house with a tee shirt on in fucking March!

From his locker cowboy withdrew his Walkman, slamming the metal door shut moments later.

"You ready for Love Buzz?" he asked as he placed the headphones on his ears, lounging against his locker.

The dreaded talent show. We had been practicing since December, 4 months ago, yet still a small bubble of an anxiety formed in my stomach whenever I even thought of the thing.

I nodded lazily, my eyes searching the hallway for another one of our 'clique' members.

I hated the word clique. Just the sound of it seemed bitchy and exclusive. But it was hard to deny the reality that what we had was in fact a clique. A hard, solid, asshole-filled clique.

"We're gonna rock pretty damn hard that's for sure. Definitely book at least second prize." He continued, adjusting the headphones on his head.

No we weren't. We sucked balls and if the rest of our group thought other wise then they were just plain off their rockers. Of course we rocked hard, but when you combine two killer guitarists, a garage rock vocalist, a slamming bassist and an angry drummer, its not really music any more. What we had was noise. Fucking white noise. Our inaudible 'noise' wasn't the only problem. The talent show had been a trivial topic ever since me and spot had our little 'disagreement' over lead guitar. I hadn't talked much to the dude since the fight. But man, that fight was just plain dumb. We just argued back and forth online and then the next day in school and then at lunch and then at practice. Finally we simply stopped talking to each other all together. We both wanted lead guitar for Love Buzz with a fiery passion cause its so damn fun to play but for months now we hadn't been able to decide who should get it. We both have the same statistics and history on guitar; started at the same time, learned from the same teacher. No fact could prove me or him better, only what the ear heard and I'm pretty sure folk's ears liked my playing a hell of alot better.

Suddenly Dead Kennedys began to blast from cowboy's headphones.

I stared down at his Dead Kennedy's sweatshirt.

"You better be careful no one starts calling you a fuckin' poser, man."

He gave me a cynical smile "Mind your own bee's wax, bird brain."

I snorted at his insult. "Nice, that was a real smooth one, cowboy," I muttered sarcastically, my hands in my back pockets.

He leaned his head back against the locker, "someone better have a smoke on hand."

"I may be able to supply you," Came the mocking voice of blink. He was wearing a yellow vans tee shirt and a pair of brown, straight leg corduroys. A wallet chain protruded from his back pocket.

He looked around the hallway; students rushing off to lunch, coming in and out of classrooms.

"Others not here yet?"

"Hey we gonna practice one more time today," I asked hastily, ignoring blink's question; if he didn't see the others here well then question answered.

Jack shrugged, lost in his music. I doubt he even heard what I had asked.

"Dunno. You guys wanna practice again?"

I shrugged, glancing anxiously around the hallway. If the others didn't show up soon it would take hours to get food unless we cut the line.

"I think you should." Put in racetrack as he strolled casually over to our group of three, his hands dug into the pockets of his camouflage jeans. Although Racetrack wasn't part of our band (out of free will and lack of talent in the musical area) he was as much part of our 'clique' as any one of those other fuckers were. We kind of considered him our musical consultant.

"Hey race, you gotta an extra layer?" I asked for a second time.

He shook his head 'no'.

I looked to blink.

"All I have," Blink replied earnestly, pointing to the flannel shirt draped carelessly around his lean frame.

I shrugged once again; some days talking just seemed a pain in the ass and besides, why use words when shrugs can portray just as much and require less thought.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. Coolly I turned my head slightly to the left.

"Hey, Rita." I muttered to the blonde by my side.

"Hey unsocial Skittery, a bit depressed are we today?" she asked in her usual effervescent voice.

God how I hated that bitch! She had been calling me 'unsocial Skittery' ever since I had stopped going to party's about a month ago and already, the name made me want to smash a mirror every time I heard it. I wasn't unsocial (yet) I just didn't like parties! What's wrong with that! I mean all that ever happened at the parties in our school was all the couples made out while everybody else either got exceedingly stoned and watched a movie or listened to crappy music and got mad drunk. Or both. I mean take me to a real party, I wont complain, but bring me to one of those shit-hole flings and I'm gonna leave within the first half hour.

"Now unsocial Skittery, don't tell me you haven't been taking your medication," Rita teased on.

Aw if only we hadn't been in school cause I would've smacked the shit out of her any place else.

"I said 'hi Rita', isn't that enough?"

The girl scowled playfully at me before turning to the other people in our group to say a hello to them as well.

Although I simply despised Rita's attitude, I had to admit she was hott. About two months ago she had gotten out of her rocker chick phase and now was in an 80's punk phase. Everyday she came in wearing different colored tights, madras converse, a frilly short skirt and a skimpy, yet radically colored, tank top, showing some major cleavage.

The other's waved a hello to her. They didn't hate Rita as I did. They only disliked her.

"Where's jade?" blink inquired about his girlfriend, leaning next to cowboy against the lockers.

"She's down stairs with mush and spot."

Cowboy rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' scabbers could'a told us where they were going." He muttered to himself, throwing his Walkman in his locker, slamming it shut and beginning to amble towards the stairwell, his hands thrust into the pockets of his Dead Kennedy's hoodie.

"You've been hanging around skits to much." race snorted, following cowboy closely towards the stairwell.

Cowboy cast a hateful glance back at race before turning around once more, bobbing up and down ever so slightly as he walked.

"Yeah and you've been hanging round Rita to much." I muttered under my breath, dropping to the back of our slowly moving group.

Suddenly a glassy eyed girl popped up by my side, latching on to my arm.

"Hey skits." She chirped pleasantly, a wide smile set about her freckled face.

"Hey doll." I replied, planting a small kiss atop the girl's brown, wavy hair, my scowled expression immediately turning into a grin.

Kayla wasn't my girlfriend. Surprisingly, Kayla and me were just best friends. Really, really close best friends. Now I know that sounds a hell of a lot like fuck buddies but we weren't or we aren't anymore. Sure I broke her in, but we got over the romance by 9th grade. Kayla and me were just incredibly close, best friends. Like best, best, friends. She was probably the only one in our 'gang' who hadn't once called me an unsocial bitch or claimed I was on the verge of Goth-hood and I was probably the only one out of our gang who hadn't called her a prude. Of course one of the reasons I had never called her a prude was because she had already proven me other wise but the point isn't who I've fucked and who I haven't. The point is that we were each other's shelter, protective gear I guess. Any time the world lashed out at Kayla, she came running to me and vise versa. Conclusion; we loved each other to death.

"You guys goin' to the band room for one more practice?" Kayla asked, her juvenile face beaming up at mine.

"Yeah I guess, if we ever find mush and spot."

She nodded understandably; her dark curls bouncing up and down, going this way and that way like branches swaying in a calm storm.

"So where you goin for lunch."

I rubbed my eyes, unhooking our arms momentarily, "I dunno, no one can seem to decide on anything today."

I yawned loudly, causing Kayla to giggle.

"God, I got 2 hours of sleep last night."

"Nervous?"

"Nah, I dunno what was keeping me up," I shrugged.

She nodded her head again. Man, how I loved that girl.

"Hey," I bent down to whisper in Kayla's ear, "wanna just skip out on them…go to Thai food or something?"

She furrowed her brow, "don't you guys have to practice, talent show's tomorrow night?"

I shrugged, putting my arm around Kayla's shoulder once more, "they're never gonna be able find mush and spot and jade. They'll probably end up going to star bucks or something, 'sides, I'm too tired to put up with Rita today."

Kayla gave me a crude look, "she's not _that_ bad."

I shot back at her a vigilant smile, "oh, yes she is."

Kayla slapped me playfully on the back of the head, "be nice."

"You tell me to 'be nice' to her when she starts addressing _you_ as unsocial Kayla or depressed Kayla."

"You just didn't get enough sleep." Kayla proclaimed glibly as we hopped down the stairs, a flight behind cowboy and the others.

"Ok, so I didn't get enough sleep," I admitted hastily "now lets go before they remember we're here."

Kayla threw a glance down the next flight of stairs at where the others were sliding down the railing, talking and cursing in loud boisterous voices.

"You know what, I already have too much of a headache today and a lunch with spot -if they ever find him- isn't going to make me feel any better. C'mon, lets try to get a ride in the elevator and beat them downstairs," She led me over to the door off of the stairwell, pulling me threw its frame by my hand, "between the attention Rita draws towards herself and the amount of curses Race incorporates into every sentence, they'll never realize we're gone."

Man, I really did love that girl.

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i hope you liked the first chapter! please rr! ill try to update soon.


	3. Fakin' It xxx Simon & Garfunkel

hola chicas. um this chapter has some major cursing and theres a bit of ahem mild sex towards the end so if you are prude you may not want to read this ch. please someone reveiw about the amount of cursing cause i wasnt sure how much a mostly guys punk rock gang would curse. too much? too little? please rr!

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"Where the fuck were you?" spot stormed upon seeing me and Kayla enter the band room.

We had heard them playing from the courtyard and Kayla had convinced me to go apologize and practice with them. Great advice she gave.

"We thought you guys had left." I retorted lazily, leaning against the band room door.

"Yeah, great assumption! Rita told us they were down stairs so why the fuck did you leave!" blink joined in, real red in the face.

Mush was over by drums and cowboy had his base in his lap though neither took their eyes off me.

Cowboy gave me a listless, all-knowing smile that made me want to beat the hell out of him.

"I didn't know, c'mon lay off me will ya." I muttered in my usual lifeless, uncaring tone.

Spot's jaws were clenched hatefully and I could see him trying hard to resist soaking me right then and there.

"You know I'm fuckin' sick and tired of you blowing us off all the time, skits! I love you and all but it's fuckin' hard to keep my temper when you act like you can any goddamn thing you want to." Mush said sincerely from his seat at the drums, his jaw set squarely, his hands tightly clutching his drumsticks.

God, mush always made me feel so fuckin' guilty bout everything. Even when he was mad he tried to be so reasonable and shit and it made me feel so guilty, like every thing was my fault and I didn't deserve a friend like him. I wish he would have fuckin yelled at me like spot did. Just let it out and let me have it. Not beat around the bush, all calm and shit.

"You see what time it is?"

Blink brought me back to my senses.

"I said, you see what time it is?" he took hold of my chin with his hand and jerked it up towards the clock, pointing at it violently with his other hand. "Its 11:40! Lunch ends in 10 minutes. 10 minutes for a full band rehearsal! You left us 10 fucking minutes!" With one last jerk of my neck he let go of my chin.

I could care less about what any of them said or yelled at me. I would do it again if I could go back. Getting yelled at and cursed at was worth having a lunch with just Kayla. All that commotion was worth one peaceful 45 minutes. It didn't matter if they didn't realize it but I could have cared less about them and this fucking band; all this I could care less about.

So I just stood there and took their lashings without a word, just staring them in the face, my expression completely passive which only angered them more.

Finally cowboy interjected, "come off it! He's here now so let's just play for gods sake!"

Both spot and blink gave me one last glare before picking up their instruments; blink his mic, spot his guitar.

I didn't hate cowboy. I hated mush for being so nice. I hated spot and blink for being so mean. But I didn't hate cowboy.

Kayla squeezed my hand, which had been in her grasp the whole time, and whispered in my ear, "It was worth it."

The same words I had been thinking only moments before.

Slowly I shuffled over to the instrument closet, my hands clenched into to fists.

Fuck all of them! They were all uptight posers! I mean, was it that hard to realize that we sucked. We didn't need practice, we needed a new band. We sounded like shit and either they all were too poser to admit it or too poser to realize it.

My motivation and enthusiasm in love buzz had been declining for some time but I have decided it was only then, with spot and blink glaring fiercely at me and cowboy and mush hating me but too descent to show it, that I lost all passion for the song whatsoever. By then I could give a fuck about whether we played or not and even less about if we won. Really I just wanted to fuck over the whole gig.

I returned from the instrument closet with a school guitar in hand, my eyes averted to the floor as I walked. I really didn't want to meet cowboy or Mush's gaze. God, I hate it when people are nice cause it makes me feel so damn mean!

"Uh… skits…when you weren't here…spot said it was o.k. for you to play lead… if you want to."

Great, the one practice I miss, spot gives in for lead guitar. Real smooth skits!

"Yeah, sure, whatever." As usual my tone was completely indifferent.

I could feel spot's glare suddenly become incredibly sharper, only making me feel even more satisfied in his surrender.

"We gonna play or what? We got 7 minutes now!" blink exclaimed brusquely from his place at the mic.

God how I wanted to break open his head with the guitar but… some how I was able to refrain from doing so for the guitar's sake, (who would want to be bathed in blink's blood?)

And so we played… and we sounded like ass. I did a rocking solo, which was then nullified by spot coming in too loudly on guitar. Blink managed to tame his ragged voice for the first verse but could no longer maintain a civilized tone for the second and by the end of the song was singing in his usual edgy, garage-y, inaudible voice.

And the whole time, all I could do was think about why the hell were we doing this? We were only going to make fucking fools of our selves! Why the fuck were we doing this and not only doing it, but actually taking it seriously? I mean, everything else we did we didn't take seriously! Cowboy didn't take gravity seriously; broke his skull once skateboarding. Spot didn't take eardrum capacity seriously; busted his ears playing guitar full volume in an old, deserted barn last year. Race didn't take commitment seriously; fucked half the girls in school but has never had a girlfriend. Me and blink sure as hell didn't take cancer seriously; smoke at least 3 packs a day between the two of us. None of us took school seriously…or parents or rules of any kind. Hell, we didn't take life seriously! So why the fuck were we taking a high school talent show so damn seriously!

That day after school we went over to mush's house to hang out.

God how I wanted to turn them down. In my head I pictured what I would say, something like 'your all fuckin poser's so yeah… that's why I cant come over.' I decided telling them off was not such a good way to go about things, especially when they were already mad at me.

I considered a doctor's appointment or dentist or something but I had used those excuses before and cowboy would know they were excuses to boot.

But I wasn't _all _frowns; mush had told me his friend Donna was coming over so I was hoping for a bit of action there.

Since me and Kayla stopped with the whole fuck buddy's relationship, not many girls had come my way. There were those gals at the 'real' party's me and my cousin went to, but half of them were delirious when I fucked them and the other half didn't realize I was only a sophomore.

I grinned at the thought of girls thinking I was older then my age; always a good tool in hooking up.

"Whoa, is it me or is Skittery actually smiling." race exclaimed, punching me playfully in the shoulder as we walked from the subway station to mush's apartment.

"Whoa, he _is_ smiling! Hey, what you thinking about that's making you so damn happy, skits?" Blink questioned, cocking his head to one side as if truly interested in what I was thinking.

It made me so damn mad when they did stuff like that to me. I mean sure the attention was great but it wasn't true. I sure as hell did smile, same as laugh and grin and socialize and be all hyper and shit. But I did all that crap when I was happy and I sure as hell wasn't happy when I was around these cock suckers.

If only they knew what I was soon to become, then they would really have something to mock and jeer at.

"So what _are_ you thinkin' bout, skits?" cowboy asked, nodding his head my way as the 8 of us lumbered along 103rd street.

"How I'm gonna get Donna in my pants." I joked, my grin growing even wider and matching so perfectly with the smiles the rest of the group sported.

Kayla frowned up at me, her eyes warning. I squeezed her hand in my grasp to let her know I was 'joking'.

I wasn't joking.

This was how it used to be, in middle school and 9th grade. The 10 of us; me, cowboy, blink, spot, jade, race, mush, Kayla, Rita and molly all of us laughing and poking fun at each other but not really meaning anything of it.

When had things gotten so fuckin' serious; I don't know. God, I wish we could go back to how things were before as corny as that sounds. Hell, me and spot used to be best friends! Me and Kayla were practically the best damn couple in the whole school. And look where our 'clique' ended up; every body hating every body. Everybody's relationships on the rocks. Nothing was stable. You couldn't count on anyone. It was like there was a war within our tribe; complete with double agents and secret revengeful missions and I fucking hated it! I-fuckin-hated it! I guess I'm being hypocritical cause I kinda helped put our gang this way when I stopped talking to people outside our group and stopped going to parties. But it wasn't only me. It was Rita. It was spot. It was cowboy & molly and all those other fucked up couple's like blink & jade and mush & Fanny and the now deceased relationship of me & Kayla.

You could say it was bound to happen eventually. I mean…think about it, 10 people in a gang, all with completely different personalities, their only similarity being their taste in music.

We reached mush's building on 103rd and riverside and found molly and Donna waiting for us outside, (cowboy had called molly after school to ask her if she was feeling well enough to fuck him. As usual her answer was yes.)

"Well you guys took your time." Molly stated pleasantly, planting a kiss on cowboys open mouth.

She looked a bit tired and her hair was rumpled and unkempt but hey, it was only going to get more rumpled within the hour.

Cowboy smiled and wrapped his arm around his lover's waist sub-consciously.

No one noticed his actions; it was the position you could usually find him in when molly was around.

With his other hand he took off his headphones and let them hang around his neck carelessly, "race insisted he needed coffee."

Race gave Donna and Molly a toothy smile, "had history 9th period. Could hardly keep my eyes open."

"Hey skits," Donna nodded her head towards me, her orange-dyed hair glistening beneath the late March sun.

"Hey Donna."

I let go of Kayla's hand; Donna knew we were just friends but still I didn't want her to think anything. I heard Kayla subtly sigh next to me; she knew what I was playing at.

"You ever finish _The Wall_?"

We had started watching the horrific Pink Floyd movie last month (the last time we had seen each other) but we hadn't been able to finish it.

"Nah, you?" Later that week I rented it for myself.

"Nope." She and race had watched the end the next day at her house.

"I brought it if you want? I dunno, I think we were up to the sex scene last time." She smiled puckishly at me, her eyes glinting.

I returned her smile.

Minutes later my tongue was in her mouth, my hands caressing her breasts. God I had forgotten how fuckin good boobs felt to hold!

She held my head in her hands, slowly twisting my long brown hair around her delicate fingers.

In the background "young lust" was playing quietly from the T.V. and two people were fucking each other on the screen. In the corner of mush's room, cowboy and molly were making out heavily on the couch. I knew it wouldn't be long until they got up and went to get condoms.

We slipped under the sheets of mush's queen size bed, still in 'action'.

My hands migrated to her back where they unclipped her bra, pushing it off the bed and onto the floor where it fell in a heap next to her shirt and mine.

I felt my dick get hard against her waist.

She must have been a D cup or something cause her boobs were fuckin' huge! I had always held Kayla in pretty high regard but now seeing Donna, Kayla was like a flat-chested 10 year old!

I heard the door open and close quietly as cowboy scampered out into mush's hallway in search of condoms, wearing only popcorn print boxers.

Molly sat pleasantly on the day bed where cowboy had left her, dressed in a blue lacy bra and a matching thong, smirking as she watched me and Donna go at each other, our tongues weaving in and out of each other's mouths.

My hands roamed up and down Donna's body, feeling every crevice and curve of her lean frame though always coming right back up to her chest, still skeptical as to the size of her boobs.

I heard the door open and close once more.

Cowboy threw a blue plastic wrapper at me and grinned sheepishly, before going over to molly and slipping his on.

Moments later I entered Donna and suddenly I was completely at ease… like I had entered ecstasy instead of some really hott rocker chick with huge breasts.

My mind roamed. Fuck the talent show! Fuck spot and blink! Fuck lead guitar! Fuck love buzz and fuck those hell-raising judges. I had gotten what I had been wanting and nothing else mattered any more.

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hope you liked this ch. schools over so the next ch should be up pritty soon.

Mush n' Marbles: thanks so much for reveiwing! im glad you liked it and i hope you like this ch too!

another pansy and too lazy to log in (lolz molly and fanny): gracis para la reveiw and i think im going to stick with this story for awhile (i feel real bad bout deserting Rebel Yell and The Canada Boys but w/e.)


	4. Little Green xxx Joni Mitchell

hola chicos. thi ch is a bit shorter then the other ones but have no fear cause the next will probably be longer. since no one responded to the cursing i decided to mellow it down a bit but there may be more enxt ch. R/R!

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"So…ah…how was your time with Donna yesterday?" mush raised his eyebrows at me as we shuffled down 18th street to school.

I rubbed my eyes wearily. My problems hadn't disappeared yesterday afternoon; they had only faded away for a time.

"Pretty damn good, I'd say."

I shrugged my shoulders.

Mush's smile broadened, "hey its just like the song…ah from that musical…ah Hair. Oh once upon a looking for Donna time there was a 16 year old non-virgin, oh Donna…"

Mush continued on in his attempt to keep a tune, piercing the brisk march air with his shit-heap singing voice.

Across the street Kayla was walking parallel to us. I called her over, hoping she wasn't too lost in her music to hear me.

"Have you seen, my 16 year old tattooed woman, heard the story she got busted for her beauty…" mush's voice suddenly cracked as he went up high.

"Shut the fuck up, mush, it's too early." I muttered under my breath, rubbing my eyes wearily.

But mush paid no heed.

" …And I'm gonna love her, make love to her till the sky goes brown. I'm evolving, I'm evolving, through the drugs that you…" he pretended to hump the air, dropping his school bag on the ground as he did so.

Without realizing it I began to clobber him, every punch more fulfilling then the last.

"Get the fuck off me, skits!" mush squealed, trying to throw me off of his back.

Though I held fast (it felt too good to let go.)

Finally he was able to get me off. Blushing, he began to straighten out his rumpled Grateful Dead jacket (mush was part of the late generation of dead heads.)

"Real smooth skits." He mumbled, swinging his discarded backpack over his shoulder once more and beginning to walk down 9th avenue to school.

I grinned broadly.

Kayla skipped over to us, dodging several honking cars as she crossed the middle of the road.

I was extremely jealous of the fact that she could have so much energy at 7:30 in the morning. I mean it was fucking 7:30 AM and she was able to skip. I could hardly fucking walk and she was skipping!

Our gang had all stopped bothering to come in late to school by the 8th grade (wasn't great on the report card and mum nearly hided me when she saw my attendance record,) so instead of showing up 15 minutes after the bell rang, you could usually find us smoking outside school 15 minutes before the bell rang. Nothing like killing your lungs in the early hours, eh.

Mush, Kayla and I sauntered lazily over to the brownstone stoop across the street from our school, cigarette packs already in hand.

"So what you guys wearin' for the talent show tonight?" Kayla squinted her eyes through the early morning sun, reaching out her hand for the pack of ciggies.

I shrugged (not because I didn't know, I just didn't feel like talking.)

Mush shrugged as well but went on to answer her question anyway "I dunno. We were talking bout being all brit punk and shit but…I dunno now. Maybe just straight-leg jeans and flannel shirts. Plain black tees."

We really hadn't given very much thought to our outfits. I certainly hadn't, not with spot and me fighting for lead up until yesterday (sucker heh heh.)

Blink had been set on totally decking ourselves out in punk rock clothes and British flags. When he had told us his idea, cowboy had simply responded, "you're a fucked up poser, you know that blink?"

Punk idea; out.

Spot then said he thought maybe we should be all garage-y since the song was in fact a garage-y song. This idea wasn't that bad. It wasn't poser cause it was original but it wasn't so original that it turned our band new wave, and since none of us wanted to be the dreaded new wave and I'm sure as hell none of us wanted to be poser, I liked the idea (although it came from spot's mouth.)

Kayla nodded understandably and began to puff away on the cigarette.

"That was pretty nice of spot to let you have lead." Mush said dryly to me as he sat down on the stoop of the brownstone, his cigarette loosely clamped between his lips.

I nodded though didn't say a word.

How was it that everyone in our gang had a soft side except me? Even spot and blink could be gracious and understanding sometimes but I couldn't. Maybe I didn't talk enough to be nice but still… it made me feel real guilty and shameful and shitty at times. Made me feel like the group was doing me a favor by letting me hang with them. Probably were. I mean what did I contribute to our gang besides guitar and a sarcastic comment every once and a while. I wasn't funny; in fact I was a real bitch. And I fucking hated talking to all them.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kayla turn up the volume on her Walkman and as a result, both me and mush were able to hear the music blasting through her headphones. Led zeppelin.

I sunk back against the railing of the brownstone steps and closed my eyes, listening to the filtered music, strumming the cords on an imaginary guitar as the song played out.

Mush started to tap his foot to the drums and gave me a jaded smile. A smile that could usually be seen on cowboy's face but perhaps, this early in the morning, even mush could get away with tired glee.

As usual, I wasn't smiling. I could hardly curse at 7:30 a.m., only a fucking fool would expect me to be able to smile. Instead I was sporting a weary, passive expression, my eyes shadowed and showing no emotion.

I looked down at my hands, still strumming the guitar, my gaze traveling down my brown pants, all the way down my leg to my green vans.

They were giving me a headache. All the color was penetrating my skull, twisting my brain. The green was violating my space; I could feel the green, touching my skin and clinging to my flesh. The headache turned into a migraine and the more I looked down at my shoes, the more sickened I became. I had never had a problem with green before. I hated yellow and blue, but green had always been a safe color for me to wear, I had always felt comfortable in it but… right then… I felt violated. Like it was touching me too closely. A sudden insecurity and panic spread throughout my body. It wouldn't go away.

I broke out into a light sweat as I stared down at my green and white shoes, feeling Kayla and mush's eyes watching me with curiosity and awe.

Hastily I peeled off my black hoodie and threw it over my shoes roughly, hiding the green from my sight; leaving me in brown jeans, a gray shirt and black covered sneakers.

I sighed with relief as the anxiety went away and was replaced with a warm feeling of comfort.

I looked up at mush and Kayla's faces; they were both staring at me in pessimistic awe, both of their mouths slightly a gape.

I blushed before shrugging and taking out my music, jamming the headphones over my ears and turning the volume up incredibly loud, trying to block out what had just happened from my thoughts for fear of the anxiety coming back.

I kept turning the music up louder and louder.

Sitting on that stoop, I wanted to play that music so fucking loud, that time would go backwards, back to early this morning and I could put on different sneakers and I would never have to feel that horrible anxiety and vulnerability again, not even when I got up at 8:00 and took the hoodie off my shoes to go into school.

I wanted to sink into that music, become whatever the hell was playing. Get lost in the guitar and never find my way out again. Never again have to look down at the green-ness of my shoes.

* * *

Hoped you all liked the chapter. it wasnt as angsty lolz as the other two but the next chapter most likly will be.

once again thank you mush n' marbles for reveiwing! and flannel grrr but you dont count lolz (i love you fanny teehee)

Everyone else: REVEIW!


	5. Everbody's In Show xxx The Kinks

sry this ch took so long. my comp broke down for a few days but the good news is the next ch will come soonish. thanks to all for reveiw and i'm so glad you liked the ch. (btw if you have never heard the nirvana song love buzz you should deffinetly listen to it cause its like the greatest thing ever.) this ch may be a bit...weird but w/e. i wrote it from my own feelings about black exsept, for skittery i kinda applified them. that probably doesnt make any sense at all but w/e cause it makes sense to me lolz. R/R!

* * *

I shifted my guitar uneasily on my back, feeling the case thump painfully against my spine.

I approached the school building, slowing down my pace as much as possible, the knot in my stomach growing bigger with every step. Of course I had been in shows before but that didn't mean I couldn't get nervous.

Outside the school spot was waiting, his guitar also on his back. He was wearing a pair of blue straight-leg jeans and an unbuttoned navy flannel shirt. Under the shirt he wore a plain gray tee'.

"What's with the dark colors?" he inquired, looking me up and down as we began to walk towards the school's entrance.

I shrugged.

I had to admit I was wearing only dark colors but why the fuck should he care. I couldn't play if I was spazzing out about the green on my shoes like I had that morning. Thank god only Kayla and mush knew about that incident and I don't think even they really knew what the hell had happened to me.

We met up with the others in the band room, 10 minutes till the start of the talent show.

We were the third act so we got a final practice before we had to go on stage.

Outside the band room we could hear the students all hustling into the auditorium, searching for friends to sit with during the show.

Somewhere out there I knew Kayla and Rita and race were finding their seats and chatting blissfully carefree, while the 5 of us were in here sweating and freaking out like you had never seen.

In fact everyone in the band room--including the other bands--was pacing and laughing nervously at dry humor, the kind of humor used only to relieve tension.

The rest of our band was dressed similarly to spot making me feel like the grim reaper in my dark, forest green flannel shirt, gray tee and black straight-legs.

Upon seeing me, both mush and cowboy had inquired about all the dark colors and of course I gave them the same answer I had given spot; a shrug.

The time flew by faster then it ever had and 30 minutes later, a 11th grade M.C. popped her head into the band room and told us we were up next.

My stomach turned over and I felt sick. Both spot and mush's faces went a bit pale.

Nervously, we picked up our instruments and followed the M.C. into the hallway and through a door to back stage. No one spoke although the girl chattered on a bit about the acts before and how this talent show was going to be so much better then the last one and how she was getting grade credits for helping set it up.

No one was listening.

Backstage we silently swung our instruments around our heads, everyone's fingers quaking.

Cowboy dropped his pick about a hundred times; apologizing each time the plastic hit the ground.

We watched from right stage as the curtain closed and behind it a boy began to comment on the previous act, stretching out the time between their act and ours.

In my mind I went through the cord changes over and over again, seeing my fingers playing the riff then the verse then the bridge then the chorus then the solo.

Mush tapped his foot on the ground to the beat of the song. Cowboy tapped the base strings with his fingers, producing a hollow mute sound.

The M.C. ushered us on stage and watched closely as we hooked up our instruments and blink raised the mic to his mouth level. She went around and checked all our amps, making sure the lights were on and that we hadn't plugged our guitars into the headphones jack or something stupid like that.

The feeling in my stomach exploded and I began to feel like I had that morning, the anxiety drumming away at my mind.

Behind the curtain I heard the audience roar as the boy announced our band, The Knell Of Order, playing Love Buzz by Nirvana.

The curtain rose and I felt the blood draining from my face. My heart stopped.

I looked over at cowboy who had begun to play the base line as usual. Four runs of the base line and mush came in with a simple drumbeat, getting increasingly faster with every run of the base. Four more base lines and me and spot came in on guitar, playing equally simple power cords.

Run by run of the base line the song got more and more grungy, dirtier and dirtier, so that it soon seemed to have no rhyme or reason at all in less you listened closely.

I began to do a number of different scales, randomly plucking at the strings as I went along letting spot come in with a power cord every 8 counts.

Four more baselines and it was time for me to take lead. I prepared my self, setting my hands up on the 6th fret of the guitar. The part came and I began to hammer down on the riff, leaving my cords behind for spot to play.

Though the power cords stopped all together. No one was playing them at all.

I looked up from my guitar, still playing the driven base line, though lowering the volume a bit so that if I screwed it over it wouldn't be that big of a deal.

I looked over at cowboy's hands, playing the base line as usual.

I stopped the baseline so I could come in with the random scales as I had been doing before.

Again there were no power cords; only baseline and scales.

The song mellowed out finally and blink came in singing, so that I was able to lift my eyes once more as my fingers played the baseline.

I looked over at spots fingers.

What the fuck! He wasn't playing power cords! He had taken up the lead!

I felt my face turning red as I stared at his hands, working just as fast as mine to complete the baseline before the next verse started up again.

He caught my eyes and grinned feverishly.

I glared heatedly back, my eyes burning into his gaze. God how I wish I had heat vision so I could just burn him up and his fucking guitar along with him.

Blink entered the chorus, his voice just as menacing and grungy as ever. The rest of the band seemed unaware of the wordless fight spot and me were having with our eyes as neither of us backed off lead guitar into the power cords.

_You fucking bastard!_ I screamed at him with my eyes, daring him to continue the baseline.

He didn't fold but instead turned his guitar up louder, blocking out my guitar all together.

The solo was coming up in four measures.

I warned him with my eyes that if he stole that from me he could fucking well consider himself dead.

Two measures until the solo.

The drums began to slow down and the guitar riff came to a halt.

We both started playing the power cords again, preparing ourselves for the solo.

It seemed cowboy and mush had finally caught on to our battle and both were watching us closely, trying to keep the beat at the same time.

Suddenly spot jumped into the solo, his hands flying over the 12th and 13th frets as he hammered away at notes.

I stopped playing and stared at him in disbelief.

That little fucker!

I looked at up at cowboy and mush who looked at spot oddly though seemed unscathed.

My face felt hott as I stared at spot and his guitar, all could think of was 'you god damn fucker'.

Finally I couldn't take it.

He had stolen my god damn lead, a part he had fuckin given to me! He had just taken it during the fucking performance! I mean, we had practiced before and he didn't say anything, he just went right along and played his little power cords while I solo-ed but now…during the fucking show he decided he wanted to fuck me over, steal my lead!

The next events happened as if I were experiencing them in the third person. Like everything I did wasn't really me doing. My mind never told my body to do what it did; my body had its own mind.

Abruptly I took off my guitar, letting it fall to the floor as if it had just slipped from my hand.

I heard to audience cringe as it dropped to the floor, unbroken but still discarded.

The band stopped playing and the M.C.'s appeared on stage to see what the hell was wrong, why we weren't playing.

I didn't see what happened after that; I had already walked out.

In back of me I heard a loud murmur erupt from the audience.

I began to walk down the hallway, my steps heavy and irregular as I made my way to the front door.

The auditorium door screeched open and a pair of footsteps could be heard running after me. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Skits what the fuck was that!"

I turned around to find my self nose to nose with cowboy, his face just as red as mine.

"He fucking stole my lead, man!"

"Yeah I know, but why'd ya walk out!"

"He just started playing it and he wouldn't stop!" I choked out. I knew cowboy wouldn't understand. Only me and spot would ever understand what had happened and why it was so critical.

"So what he stole your solo, yeah it was pretty bitchy for him to do, but get over it!"

I continued to mutter 'he stole my lead', over and over again, still not really sure of what was happening. It felt like it wasn't really me talking.

"Get the fuck over it! Yeah, he stole your god damn solo! But it was a fucking solo, man! And you just fucked up the whole performance for every one else! We've been practicing for four months, man! Four months and you just fucking wasted it! Thats four months of our lives, you fucking wasted cause some god damn poser stole your fucking solo!"

I had been right; the whole group did hate me. Even cowboy did. They all fucking hated me and I hated all of them.

"Well, I'm fucking sick of you all too! You fucking treat me like a zoo animal! 'Aw look at skits he's actually smiling' and 'whoa Skittery actually looks pretty happy for once.' I'm not an animal that does tricks! I can be happy just not with you guys! Being with you doesn't make me happy!"

The months of frustrations I had been feeling suddenly poured out. I couldn't stop them. I wanted all of them to feel the wrath of my thoughts! To be insulted as I had!

"I talk to people when I like them and I fucking hate all of you guys! Every fucking one of you!"

"Well you're not all that pleasant either! Your so fucking depressed all the time! All this black! You never talk! You never smile! What do you contribute to our group! You're not funny, you're not nice, you don't even have money we can mooch off of or anything! Your hardly there even when you are. Like…like a walking corpse sometimes! I try to be nice to you, I really do, but its fucking hard man! All you ever do is shrug or be all sarcastic and shit. And if you are so fucking miserable then why the hell do you hang around us anyway!"

"I don't know!" I snapped back, feeling my voice break up.

Why the hell did I hang around them! I hated every goddamn one of them!

For a moment neither of us said anything, we just stood there, breathing the stale air in and out, making little huffing sounds as the seconds passed.

Finally cowboy spoke, calmly and coolly as if finally coming to a conclusion with his thoughts.

"You know what, fuck you skits, you're a head case all on your own."

I realize only now that when cowboy said 'head case' he really meant basket case. He knew I wasn't meant to have friends. I was meant to always be solo. Always be the lonely, depressed Skittery, warped up his music and thoughts.

At this I stormed off once more, heading for the main doors and slamming them behind me while cowboy stared after me, a bit dumbfounded as to what had just happened.

* * *

there it is, hoped you liked (your probably thinking now 'thats the weirdest thing ever lolz') next ch will be up soon.REVEIW 


	6. Black xxx Pearl Jam

sry this ch took so long. my comp broke down for a few days but the good news is the next ch will come soonish. thanks to all for reveiw and i'm so glad you liked the ch. (btw if you have never heard the nirvana song love buzz you should deffinetly listen to it cause its like the greatest thing ever.) this ch may be a bit...weird but w/e. i wrote it from my own feelings about black exsept, for skittery i kinda applified them. that probably doesnt make any sense at all but w/e cause it makes sense to me lolz. R/R!

* * *

I could feel my breath, jagged and irregular, as I stumbled out of the school. The night had gotten colder and the air coming out of my mouth turned into white clouds upon contact with the chill.

I walked for what seemed like a half hour, not yet having decided a destination; just walking uptown aimlessly.

I turned into an alleyway, kicking a few trashcans over, wanting to hear the crashing sound as the came down upon the cement.

I picked up a beer bottle and cracked the head off against a building, running the jagged piece of glass against my arm.

I wanted pain! I wanted to sting and burn! I wanted to hurt so much I would forget that I had just lost every single friend I had in the world, by my own fault. Forget that in a matter of minutes I had become friendless.

I cut at my arm more, feeling a second of relief from reality as the glass sliced through my skin.

Though the pain died down with in seconds, leaving me to face reality once more and causing me to cut again and again until my arms no longer looked as if the belonged to me.

I wanted darkness. I wanted black. I wanted a fierce black. A black that hurt your eyes. I wanted it to comfort me with its pain, soothe me internally by hurting me externally.

I walked some more, feeling the bitter march wins whipping my skin as I walked from street to street, still set in no course what so ever.

Though my feet must have had a route for within the hour I was standing in front of my doorstep, gazing up at my apartment.

I checked my wristwatch as I stepped into the building; 11:24.

It was a Friday so my mum might still be up if she was sober.

God how I didn't want to see her. I wanted her to disappear so I could fume by myself with only the darkness to console me.

Quietly I dodged past the living room where my mum had fallen asleep in front of the TV, past my sister's room and into my room.

I slammed the door and whirled around widely.

It was too colorful. It gave me a headache and made me want pain even more so then I had before.

I rolled up the sleeve of my flannel shirt and saw the blood, drying out slowly along my arm.

My eyes skimmed my massacred arm to my hand and then my fingernails. The headache worsened and I got a sick feeling in my stomach. The sense of insecurity came back again.

My fingernails were too pale. They were to white and pink.

Slamming around my room, I searched for a black sharpie, popping the cap off recklessly and beginning to draw on my fingernails, covering every corner with the black toxic substance.

Next I went to my drawers and began to filter through them, pulling out every light colored t-shirt I had and dumping it into a pile on the floor. I pulled out my 2 pairs of blue straight leg jeans and threw them into the pile to join my t-shirts. Even my boxer's got separated; black from the other colors.

I stared into the pile of colors. T-shirts and hoodies, pants, shorts, boxers and long johns, everything of color I owned, in front of me. The colors beat down upon my skull, freezing my heart, chilling my bones.

I was soon overpowered by it all.

Impetuously, I threw open the window to the fire escape, ripping out the protective gate so that I would be able to fit through the window.

A cool breeze ruffled the window shades as I began to throw down article upon article of clothing, feeling the knot in my stomach loosen with every thing of color I disposed of.

I looked down from the fire escape, watching the last t-shirts float towards the ground from our 12th story apartment and lay lifelessly upon the cold sidewalk below.

The knot of anxiety released. A warm sensation appeared in my stomach.

I climbed back inside my room.

The walls. They were white.

I stared on, transfixed by the white-ness of my walls.

The knot in my chest appeared once again. The anxiety came back. My chest felt as if it was going to implode. The white had to go away. If it didn't someone was going to attack me, my mind was going to attack me, I could feel it. You couldn't hide behind white as you could with black and when my mind did attack I would be stuck in the open; the white would be my murderer.

I reached onto my desk, careful not to touch the white paint, and grabbed my wallet.

Down the fire escape I ran, up my block and into Duane Reid.

I felt the eyes of the cashier and workers upon me. What the hell was a 16 year old punk doing out at midnight? Hell they must have thought I was going to jack the place.

I raced widely through the isles, finally coming across what I was looking for; black spray paint. Into my arms went 5 bottles.

Back in my room, I stood, once again blinded by the colors.

Slowly I ripped off the top to the first bottle, shaking it up and down twice to get the juice going.

I began to spray my walls, starting off slow and getting faster and faster with every foot of white covered in black. I maneuvered the spray around my band posters, ripping down pictures of friends as I went along.

Down came a picture of me and Kayla and one of cowboy and of Rita and blink and spot and jade and fanny and molly and everyone else associated with them. I took special care to rip the picture of spot up into a billion pieces, flinging the bits of paper out the open window.

I continued to spray, finishing off the third bottle and starting in on the fourth. With each spray of the can the knot loosened in my chest, the vulnerability lifting. I began to become sane once more. I began to acquire a rationale.

I started in on my dresser and desk and window seat, making sure all traces of white were tainted with the black.

Thirty minutes later, I sat back and looked around my room; every trace of wall and wood was been covered with black, leaving my room tranquil and protected.

A little more calmly, I ruffled through the linen closet, finding a mismatched black comforter and gray sheet set.

Tearing off my red sheets and blanket I replaced them with the black ones, throwing the old ones down the fire escape to join my colorful clothing.

My mind felt free and clear, but not stoned clear…like awakened clear. Everything was much simpler and less confusing. No one was going to attack me.

I turned around surveying my completely black room once more.

Though my eyes, as they wondered around, soon fell upon my mirror. My reflection. It wasn't right and I knew that because once again that fucking knot appeared in my chest. My nails were black. My clothes were black for the most part. But my hair was brown. Like a crimson brown. Everyone had always told me I had such nice, brownish goldish hair but I didn't want nice, I wanted black.

Suddenly I felt nauseas, like I had with my pink nails. Like the brown-ness of my hair contaminated my head and mind. The brown began to beat down upon me; my fore head became hot and sweaty.

I stumbled into the bathroom, feeling the anxiety grow like it hadn't before. I felt vulnerable to the extreme, like some one could just come in the room and hack off my head because it wasn't black.

Through the cabinets I searched, pulling down endless amounts of cosmetics and toothbrushes, finally coming across an electric razor that used to belong to my dad.

I braced it against my head, feeling the hum penetrate my skull, though paused momentarily. Without any hair my head would just be white like my fingernails. Getting rid of it wouldn't make me feel any safer.

Frenetically, I stashed the razor back behind a bag of cotton balls, where I had found it, and darted back down the fire escape, grapping my wallet from where I had left it on the windowsill.

Jumping down the stairs, I ran crazily to the drug store for a second time that night.

As each second past I could feel my scalp getting sweatier, the brown-ness of my hair effecting my thoughts, making my head feel clammy and stultified.

Back up my fire escape I raced, my stomach turning with each step. The anxiety had come back stronger then ever. My instincts told me someone was going to attack my mind soon. With my hair brown, there would be no one to protect me.

Breathless, I began to run the shower, to fanatical to even think about the sound reaching my mum in the living room.

As the hot steam rose up and out of the shower I began to read the box of the black hair dye I had purchased.

Instructions: Rinse hair. Shampoo and condition if necessary. Rub walnut size amount of dye into hair. Let sit for 20 minutes. Rinse out thoroughly.

Easy enough.

I stripped and entered the boiling water, feeling like I had when I had cut my self with the bottle; the need for pain.

I didn't wince as the water hit me. I didn't cringe or flinch. I just closed my eyes and let myself burn.

Though, as before the pain soon vanished, leaving me scalded, the knot still in my chest; same as before.

Fucking pain, why'd it always have to fade?

I took the tube of black hair dye out of its enclosed box and squeezed a massive glob (certainly bigger then a walnut size) of the black gel into my hands. Instructions didn't know how much I needed black, how did they know a 'walnut size' would be black enough for me?

Rubbing my hands together, I began to weave the black gel into my long, almost shoulder length hair, watching it cling on to the long auburn locks, making my hair feel dry and stiff, as wet as it was from the shower.

Frantically, I covered every part of my head with the dye, desperately hoping I didn't leave an inch of brown hair untouched.

Finally content (although I had no mirror to make sure) I turned off the shower, feeling an incredible chill as the steam rose, leaving me naked and exposed to the crisp March air.

I could feel the black sinking into my skull, dyeing my mind black, going into my blood stream and dyeing it black as well. I willed the blackness to stretch as far as my heart, to dye it black along with everything else.

The knot finally began to unravel in my chest. I felt free. I felt exhilarated. I felt feelings I had never felt before. I felt clean and clear and elated and lucid. Like my eyes had finally opened all the way and I could see everything that had been hiding from my vision before.

The clamminess on my forehead slowly began to disappear along with the brown-ness in my hair.

I had achieved utter blackness.

* * *

there it is, hoped you liked (your probably thinking now 'thats the weirdest thing ever lolz') next ch will be up soon.REVEIW


	7. Miror In The Bathroom xxx FiFi

thanks every1 for reveiwing! i'll try to get one for ch in before i go to camp but i do leave this wensday so i cant promise anything. my usual plot editor (ozymandias king of kings) is in seattle so its probably good that i wont have time for another ch cause im kinda stuck right now lolz. if you have any plot ideas or critique, please feel free to tell me cause after the next to ch's i dunno where to go lolz (im such a horrible writer lolz.) R/R

* * *

My eyes blinked open the next morning at around 2:00 o'clock in the afternoon. I rubbed them wearily, watching my room come into focus.

The Sex Pistols Poster hanging above my bed stared down at me. I looked around and felt suddenly at ease, gazing into the black nothing-ness of wall that surrounded me and covered by endlessly black sheets.

Though the comfort soon dispersed as I began to realize what I had done. Black everywhere. 5 empty cans of black spray paint sat on my black desk.

It had to be a dream. It had to be something I could get out of. There had to be a trap door out of this reality.

"Good, I'm glad to see you're awake. We better start cracking, gotta get your sis a…" My mum stopped mid-sentence, the bundle of folded laundry she was carrying into my room, dropped to the floor.

"Michael, what the fuck did you do?"

I hid my head under my pillows, smelling the black as if it had a special, soothing aroma, all other colors lacked.

"Michael what the fuck have you done?" she demanded for a second time, her fearful eyes looking around the room.

She looked almost scared of the black-ness, I thought. How the hell could she be scared of it! Just looking at me made me feel stoned, too at ease for my own good.

Though I wasn't at ease then, with my eyes shut, my face smothered between my pillow and sheets, my heart couldn't have been beating faster unless I was being burned alive. All comfort had disappeared.

What the fuck had I done? Was I high or something last night? I knew I wasn't high; I had just been incredibly crazy.

"Michael look at me? What did you do? Why is your room…well…black!" she stormed on, walking to my bedside and taking me by the shoulders.

She shook we pitilessly. By then I was already trembling enough from nerves to need her shaking me out of her own fright as well.

"Mum!"

I finally withdrew by head from the pillows.

She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Michael" she murmured, over and over again, staring at my head.

I looked up into my bangs and was surprised to find my usual mop of auburn hair, a dark, stringy black. I grasped a lock of hair near my ear and brought it into my vision; black.

Throwing my head back against the pillows in frustration, I drew the black comforter up to my eyes so would not be able to the fury blazing in my mum's gaze.

"Michael your hair… what did you do?"

She stepped back from my bed, her glassy, tear prone eyes moving around the room, every black object causing her to cringe.

"Black… Michael… your room …your hair…." She looked at me once more, her eyes welled in tears. Her gaze traveled to my hands, clutching the black comforter, "your nails…Michael…"

She backed up into the hallway, her breath coming in short gasps as she took a final look around my room before dashing down hall, most likely to call my shrink.

The comfort was lost. I felt sick. Not vulnerable, just sick. What had I done, there must have been another way to get rid of that knot, why'd I have to do something so drastic.

I stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the tub and staring at my reflection as I waited for the water to rise.

A scrawny, medium build, 6'1 boy looked back at me, his eyes sullen and dismal. Confusion and angst was etched into his forehead. A thick mop of long black hair hung in front of his brown eyes, obscuring his vision and completely covering his eyebrows. Wild, black, wiry hair.

I shut off the water and stepped in, my footing shaky, my hands trembling as they clutched the sides of the bathtub.

What had I done? I wasn't Goth. I wasn't Goth at all. I was just an unsocial kid who liked black. People wouldn't understand that black just felt better. They would think I was Goth or Emo or one of those other cult groups. But I was just a punk. I just liked black in a bit of an unhealthy way. Looking at me you wouldn't be able to see the comfort I saw in black. It wouldn't show when I walked down the street, that other colors made me feel vulnerable and exposed. The only conclusions people would come to when they saw me were 'suicidal Goth freak.' Maybe the part that frustrated me most was that I hated Goth music. I hated all that emo shit like Good Charlotte and crap. All those posers didn't have shit against bands like Nirvana and Metallica and AC/DC. Music was how I lived, it was meant to be just my music and me. I didn't care bout my rep as long as people knew what music I liked, knew that it was fucking good music and I had good taste. I would die rather then have someone think I liked that other crap.

I slid into the tepid water, watching my hair float around my head in long, black wisps.

For a second, I forgot about what I had done. I only saw the black hair. I only felt the condolence only blackness could give me and for a second it all felt worth it. I remembered why I had done what I had done and was glad I had done it. I remembered my green shoe attack yesterday morning and remembered the feelings I had felt, how utterly exposed I had felt by just the fucking green-ness of my shoes.

Though the good feelings soon faded and I feverishly tucked my hair behind my ears and out of my sight.

My obsession with blackness would only give cowboy and spot and all those other fuckers something to laugh about, it would only help them prove I was a freak, an isolated, self-secluded freak. I dreaded Monday. Facing all those ex-friends of mine, completely transformed from what I had been last time they saw me. Even the feeling of vulnerability for the rest of my life would be better then coming in to school.

Frantically, I began to scrub my hair in the water, willing the dye to come out and leave me with my disgusting brown hair once more. But my efforts resulted in nothing what so ever. My hair remained the splendid black I had transformed it into the night before.

I sighed heavily cursing at it as it fell into my eyes once more.

Hell, why was god doing this to me! I looked down at my nails and began to rub at them too, pouring endless amounts of soup onto the palms of my hands and scrubbing away at the black sharpie on my nails. Slowly but surely the sharpie began to disappear, leaving my them stained and coarse.

I looked down at my pink fingernails and the feeling came back.

"Fuck." I mumbled, as the knot returned and began to tear away at my insides.

The pink was touching me, tainting my hands and contaminating them. I couldn't take my eyes off my nails.

Suddenly with out realizing it I jumped out of the bath, water splashing onto the floor and creating puddles on the white tiles.

I ran feverishly down the hallway, buck naked, passing my sister's open bedroom door. She stared at me as I scampered by, her mouth agape.

"Skittery?"

I ignored her puzzlement and kept running.

I could feel the pink burning my fingers, getting into my blood stream. I knew it wanted to convert my black heart, make my heart pink so that everything else about me would become pink as well. It was heading towards my black heart, I could feel it.

Into my room I ran the blackness of the walls soothing me as a cigarette might, though the knot still remained.

I shuffled, madly, through papers on my desk, throwing down pencils as I went, searching for the black sharpie I had used last night.

Outside my room I heard my sister knocking on my door.

"Skits, what's wrong you're your hair?" she questioned, her 8 year old voice sounding more like a pubescent 12 year boy's might, "Skits?"

"Get the fuck out'a here mica! Leave me the hell alone!" I screamed at her, her small fists still pounding at my bedroom door. "Leave me alone you fucking 8 year old!"

Outside, I heard her whimper as the insult hit her hard and moments later she could be heard wailing down the hall for mommy.

I finally found the sharpie by my guitar where I must have thrown it last night.

Ferociously, I began to color in my stained fingernails, covering every inch of tainted pinkness with sweet blackness.

I looked around my room, at the beautiful mess of darkness I had made. I felt a lump coming into my throat.

Everything was going to be fine, I told my self, there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just a bit OCD. I knew I wasn't OCD; I just liked black. I'm all right. It's not me, it's everybody else, I kept telling my self as I looked around the room.

Once again I fell across my reflection.

"Oh god, my hair," was all I could say.

I muttered it over and over again as I stared at that black haired boy in the mirror. Maybe I could dye it over, find a color similar to my brown and dye it over, no one would ever know. I remembered when Kayla had been thinking of dyeing her hair black.

"The only problem is," she had told me, "its permanent. Its not like blonde or something where you can dye it back. Once you've gone black, there's no turning back." She had then scowled at her rhyme and muttered, "god, I hate rhyming… But I think black wouldn't look to bad on me, what do you think?"

Black looked bad on everybody, especially the olive toned boy I saw in the mirror. 'There's no turning back,' her words seemed to echo in my head.

"Oh god, my hair," I moaned once more, this time with finality.

The tears were starting to come to my eyes. I flung myself onto my black bed and began to sob quietly, muttering over and over again 'my hair.'

Outside my room I heard my mum approach my door and knock on it furiously.

I could hear mica crying, "He called me some bad words, mommy."

I quieted my sobs so that they wouldn't breach the hallway where my mum and mica stood.

"Michael?" my mum howled.

Somewhere inside me I realized mica must be pretty upset if she didn't correct my mum for calling me Michael. Mica had always looked up to me in that weird little kid-ish way and used to always scold mum when she didn't call me Skittery.

I felt a small pang of guilt that I had hurt mica so badly but it soon disappeared and I was left with the pang of dread in my stomach from what I had done.

"Michael!" my mum continued, "just cause your upset from… well…what ever the hell you did last night, which I will discuss with you later, doesn't mean you can talk like that to your sister. Say you're sorry!"

I was silent, my sobs turning into small whimpers.

"Michael, say you're sorry or I'll come in…"

"Just fuck off alright!" I interrupted her, lifting my head out of comforter and turning towards the door so that my voice would be audible.

Silence.

"There is going to be a serious consequence, Michael. I'm warning you, a huge punishment. Now I don't know what the hell happened to you…or your room but I called your physiatrist and scheduled an appointment for… "

"Fuck off and leave me the hell alone!"

I could hear the wailing mica being drawn away from the door and my mum telling her it was all right and I really didn't mean whatever I had said.

I did mean what I had said. I just wanted everyone to leave me the fuck alone.

I was finally able to calm myself down enough to realize I still didn't have any clothes on.

I looked over at my black dresser only to find all the drawers hanging out of the wooden structure and off their hinges. Pieces of black clothing were strewn across the top of the dresser and the floor in front.

When I saw this new feature to my room I actually smiled. I had had enough of those colorful shirts; they only made me feel self-conscious and insecure. I knew if I put on one of those light-colored shirts now I would think the pink devil was after me or some shit like that.

I began to calm down as I selected a silver lettered, black nirvana shirt, black Doc. Martins and a pair of black straight-legs with a red collared boot cut. I didn't mind the red I guess; it was so overpowered by the black, I hardly noticed it when I looked in the mirror at my reflection.

I had to admit, although I did look like a Goth anarchist to the extreme, I didn't look half bad as one.

My black hair kinda hung lifelessly in front of my eyes and made it look even scruffier and more mussed up then before, when it was brown. The black made me look reckless I guess, like I could care less about how I looked but that didn't mean I didn't look good. A true punk.

I was surprised to find I was actually taking a liking to the black and although it would be hell going into school on Monday morning, at least I would feel comfortable in my black cocoon. The black would be there to help me if spot or cowboy or Rita started to over whelm me.

I looked at my self one last time before darting out the open window and down the fire escape; I had decided I would stay over at my cousin's house. Maybe get boozed up or high tonight.

I felt a small smile crack my scowl as I stared into the mirror, finally coming to terms with the reality that the kid looking back at me was, in fact, me looking out at the world, just maybe a little more relaxed then before.

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hope you liked the ch'appy! reveiw with plot ideas please!


	8. Monday, monday xxx Mamas and the Papas

IM soooooo sorry this chapter took so long but i was a camp and the vine yard and then...owell to many exscuses (i also have a mild case of writers block) but have no fear, the next chappie will be up before you can say cow-licking-son-of-a-gun! have fun and reveiw!

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Monday came all too fast as does any event your not looking forward too.

I spent Saturday at my cousin's house who was in awe at my appearance though agreed to take me in all the same.

He's 17 and a drugged up high school drop out. His mum and dad are fucking millionaires, had him put in richie private schools all his life, which he had once explained, was the reason why he dropped out. He figured so long as he had his guitar and could mooch off his parents money, what's the point of staying in school. All you do in school is learn how to work and all you do at work is make money so really school was just teaching you how to make money, which he already had plenty of, or at least that's how he had explained it. He had said all this before he had actually dropped out which must have been about 4 months ago. I didn't know about it till 2 days after when my mum had told me (she and her sister were close but my mums always had a grudge against her for marrying a mean ass millionaire.)

I remember going to his house that day although my mum had said I couldn't; I dunno why, maybe she thought some of his wickedness would rub off on me. His parents had locked him in his ginormous room (which wasn't much of a bummer since it could have been a house all by its self) so I had to pick the lock with my switchblade.

I opened the door a crack and peered in, looking for snoddy (my cousin). The room was silent, everything was still. Kicking a pile of dirty clothes out of the way I opened the door to its fullest and looked around the large penthouse, my eyes falling on the bed where a body lay.

"Snoddy?" I whispered hoarsely in case he was sleeping.

No reply. I sauntered over to his bedside, gazing about the disheveled room.

"Snoddy?"

"Skits, I wish I never dropped out."

A raspy voice came from the quaking body,

"Skits, my parents…my parents wont talk to me. They called me a fucked-up ungrateful son and…and my dad slapped me."

As known, I'm not great with feelings and people in general so naturally I couldn't think of any thing to say to this. I shoved my hands in my back pockets and looked at him, shriveled up on the bed, his eyes sunken in, and his brown hair unkempt like I had never seen it.

He went on "Skits, I wanna go back to school."

"So go," I said indifferently as usual.

"I cant, don't you see! That would be giving in to them, saying they are more powerful then I am!"

"They are."

My cousin knew I wasn't one for comforting people but I don't think he cared; he just wanted someone to talk to.

"Yeah I know, but I can't let them know they are or else they'll never let me do anything again."

"If you want to know the truth, I don't think they'll care, they'll be too glad you're learning again to give a fuck about anything else."

Man I sounded like my mum, trying to connect with the savage beast called the adolescent. Looking back on that day I should have just told the dude to get his ass back in school where it belonged.

Snoddy didn't end up going back to school; pride stopped him I guess. Instead he made a pledge, to learn every song ever recorded by The Rolling Stones front wards and backwards, all the words and guitar too, in alphabetical order. So far I think he's up to 'Heart of stone'.

He had a couple of friends over that night, they came over right after his mum (my aunt) had convinced me to call my mum and tell her I was okey, dokey (which was bullshit).

We played shots for an hour or two. It didn't take long for me to pass out so I was only conscious for half the time. I came to around midnight and puked a couple times before dozing off again.

Snoddy's friends usually liked me cause I didn't ever say much and when I did I made sure it wouldn't piss them off.

I didn't like them though.

They were all loud as hell and liked to get into trouble. I wasn't afraid of trouble but like any fucking sane person, I didn't like it.

I remember one time they tried to get a copper to jail them just to tick their parents off about having to pay the bail. Like Snoddy, they were all rich motherfuckers whose folks didn't give a fuck about them and hauled their asses out of jail the next day with out saying a fucking word.

Sunday I went back home for a couple hours, at times I knew the house would be empty. I took a much-needed shower after realizing that I smelled like ass from my puke fest the night before and took a short nap on the couch. I had borrowed some black-wear from my cousin but it wouldn't be enough for everyday of my teenage life so, after stealing 120$ from my mum, I went out in search of more. Before going, I left a note for my mum, telling her I would be back around 10:00pm and not to say anything when I came back.

That was bullshit.

I would be back around 12:00; knowing her, she would be up waiting for me any earlier.

If there is one thing I can never get its how people get all strung up about lying to their folks. I dunno bout them but for me its fucking easy as hell. Easier then lying to any one else; teachers, friends, girlfriends. I fuckin lie to my mum all the time with out breaking a sweat. No bad karma so far and every night I sleep like a baby. Man, if I had a penny for every lie I've told my mum and she's believed, I would be some rich son of a bitch.

I skipped breaky Monday morning, hoping to get the 7:10 train instead of the 7:25 so I would have time to stop at star bucks before school (dun, dun, dun). Besides, any food I put down the hatch would probably surface again eventually (my nerves were acting up to the extreme and I found myself pissing every 5 minutes.)

I was going into school, without any of my homework done, dressed all in black with black hair, and without a single friend. It felt like the first day of 6th grade except fucking ten times worse. They all knew me in there but they didn't know the _new_ me.

I planned to come into school just as the bell rung so I wouldn't have to deal with any of the fuckers on the stoop. And I was gonna go in there like a true punk and not the damn coward they thought me as. No hood, no hat, no nothing. They would see me as I was; a black obsessed freak and proud of it.

I got downtown around 7:35 with about 25 minutes to go. I decided to head into the least popular of the four Starbucks surrounding school, in case another student saw me and recognized me (if that was at all possible.)

Now, usually grown-ups don't hold much against me apart from the fact that I'm a lousy, ungrateful, raucous-making, teenager with long hair, which in their minds, should be cut. But in that coffee house, it seemed like every human above the age of 25 was glaring at me, their lips pursed as they watched me enter that fine coffee establishment.

Of course, being a kid, I had felt many a glare before and usually when you look the glarer's in the eye they turn away for a while, but on this such a joyous morning, I caught their eye as usual and they just kept on glowering! It was like they had something against me personally and not just my generation!

I shoved my hair out of my face, thinking that maybe if they saw my eyes and not a glob of black hair they would think me more civilized.

It was only then that I realized it; I was punk.

And suddenly I didn't blame them for staring, I mean, I must have looked like a fucking anarchist come to loot the place!

Not only would my black obsession change my relations with peers but it would also change how strangers looked at me, how people saw me when I passed by. No longer could I hide under the veil of innocent music lover with angry thoughts. I looked how I felt; angry and depressed! People would no longer see me as a naïve, guiltless kid. They would see me as a rebel, dangerous and sinister with impish ways! Hell, just the description of what I looked like could get me arrested!

I tied back my hair (maybe I could get away as being one of those jazzy poets, beatniks or whatever they're called) and approached the cashier on the right, a 20-or so year old girl with shoulder length purple/red hair, hoping to get some empathy from her type.

The girl smiled at me and a sudden spark erupted inside my stomach.

"How are you today?" she chuckled as if she could read my thoughts and knew that this act of kindness, however small, was exactly what I had been needing.

"Good," I said between sighs of relief, "tall black coffee."

I looked around the room of glares as she rang up my bill.

"Just dye your hair?" she asked pleasantly, following my gaze as I grazed the hateful faces turned towards me.

"Uh yeah, two days ago."

"1.80$. It takes a little getting used to, public response and all."

I gave her a toothy grin; I was just glad she had started a conversation. Perhaps now I could say I had at least one friend or positive acquaintance in this world.

"But don't worry, you look good with black hair," she went on.

I took the ponytail out of my hair and let it fall into my eyes once more.

"What's your name?" I asked after a couple moments of silence; I figured if she was trying to flirt with me, why not flirt back.

"Sheena," she stated amiably.

"Is Sheena a punk rocker?"

"Yes, Sheena is a punk rocker," She giggled, "and what's yours?"

"Michael but no one calls me that,"

"So, what can I call you?"

Once again her voice was full of flirtation, which at the moment was working just like medicine in healing a broken soul and ailing confidence.

"Skittery will do."

At this moment she looked up from my gaze and to the clock in the corner.

"My shifts up, but maybe I'll see you here tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"Good luck with your new 'do, I like it, I hope everyone else does."

She smiled one last time before heading towards the back room of coffee house and to who knows where.

I took it upon myself to treasure this smile, guessing it would be the last warm gesture for the next 24 hours.

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REveiw!

ps. if you have punk/rocker character ideas please email them to me at or pennaroyaltea (aim) or just add them into the reveiw. describe your character and their personality (girl charactersonly) must be punk or rock!

gracias mucho (yes i know that is incorect spannish)


	9. No Feelings xxx The Sex Pistols

oh man im so so sorry para la wait. i no its like been forever but my comp has been brocken and then i had a serious case of writers block but that was soon cleared up by a very helpful conversation with antiIrony lolz. thank you for the charecters and i assure you they will be in the next chapter. i know this chapter switches from elegant speech to well... skittery speach but as i said before i had serious writers block so cut me some slack. i assure you i know exsactly where this is going so dont give up on me lolz. as usual, read and reveiw! lolz

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Looking up at the clock I decided I better get going too if I wanted to get to school when the bell rang. 

My nerves had settled down with the coffee, as well as the comforting conversation with the totally hott girl, but as I began to walk the two blocks to school, I began to feel real shitty again and my forehead and palms began to get clammy.

Being an early bird when it came to getting to school on time, I had never noticed that the majority of the students came in to school 'when the bell rang'. Walking in front and behind me, had to be at least half the school, ranging from freshmen, juniors and the dreaded sophomore class which I was associated with. Looking back on it, that 'situation' had to be probably the worse case scenario of my arrival to school apart from spot himself walking in back of me.

Immediately the fear rushed back.

I tried to hide my self in the veil of darkness I had cast around my self but it wasn't working.

I could feel those damn kids staring at my hair and clothes, wondering '_whose that fucker_?'

Once again I dug my head into that black world of detachedness and tried to convince my self that they were all motherfuckers and would go to hell, but it wasn't working.

I had to piss real bad, from nerves or coffee I don't know. I felt sick to my stomach.

Man, was spot going to have a laugh when he saw the state of me. I could just imagine him going on about how 'fucked-up, unsocial skits had a fucking nervous breakdown when he realized none of his friends could give a shit about him.'

Fuck being a man!

I tugged the hood of my hoodie over my head, tucking all traces of hair from view. I felt a little better though the fact that I was a fucking coward didn't settle all to well with my pride.

I entered the school courtyard and as on any other day, checked the area for a friendly face and for a spilt second I smiled upon seeing Kayla going through the door, only before remembering that she was the enemy now.

I didn't know how she was the enemy but she was. It was just like in all those Vietnam War flicks we had to watch in class last year; I knew why jack and spot were the enemy but the rest of them I really had no reason to hate. They hadn't done shit to me, yet I despised them with a fiery passion.

At the time I didn't have a clue about the war I had started; how big the enemy really was. My instincts told me to hate jack and spot but I didn't realize I hated them for something larger, out of both their and my control. I hated all of them, because they were social. It was that simple. The reason I hated Kayla and Donna and jade and molly- four sexy girls who had done not a damn thing wrong to me- was because they weren't like me. They weren't twisted and psychotic and black loving like I was.

They were normal.

I wasn't normal.

And that's why I hated them.

I came to this elaborate conclusion three feet in away from Kayla and about 5 seconds before she noticed my presence, which gave me no time whatsoever to begin hating a girl I had been in love with for most of my teenage life.

But I had to hate her. She was a person and I hated people, including myself.

5, 4,3,2,1, my time was up.

"Skits?" she inquired, right on time as she examined my fucked up black wardrobe.

I tried to ignore her; I tried to hide my self in my black curtain as I had tried when walking to school. Only this time it worked. I did not care about her. I walked right past the girl who had been my first lover and possibly the only person who I could expect to get some sympathy from besides that Sheena chick in star bucks.

I had had two friends in this world; now I was down to one.

They're just dropping like flies, I thought to my self as I began to ascend the stairs to the third floor where my homeroom was.

I liked the new feeling of apathy; it felt nice not to care for once.

I used to find it so fucking ironic how 'the knell of order' and race and everyone thought I couldn't care less about shit. Cause really, the truth is, back then I cared about everything. Man I was so sensitive; I mean that's the reason why this whole transformation happened anyway, cause I needed to _feel _the black.

Ha, if he they were to say that now a days I'd probably respond 'yes indeed your right.'

Rearing the corner from the stairwell I spotted cowboy, entering class 319, his and my homeroom.

I began to panic and the indifference faded away almost immediately.

Shit, I had forgot about this. Ya see, in my school you travel round to classes with your homeroom until 11th grade. I was in 10th grade. That meant spending all day with the fucker I least wanted to see. And I sat at almost all of his tables to boot!

I began to calculate my morning's classes and how I would be able to avoid conversation with the little bugger. I had English first but we sat in a horseshoe circle like thing and we could switch seats as we pleased.

Crossed one class off my list of possible death sentences.

Next was gym for two periods. No attendance was ever taken in gym so I could hide in the locker room all class anyway.

Crossed off periods 2 and 3.

Then was bio chemistry. He would catch me there. We were lab partners and since the O'Henry School of Collaborative Study was in fact based on collaboration, we would have to talk during our lab and I was positive he would do all he could to bring up Friday evening.

I re-shoved my hair underneath the hood for my own reassurance, and strutted out into the hallway nonchalantly instead like the freak I really was.

As I walked into visibility I noticed a couple heads turn and stare but for the most part no one noticed I was there. After all the preps were all to busy flirting and talking about money to notice punks and when you consider that preps and posers populate…no…pollute 90 of my school, that doesn't leave many down-to-earth kids left.

As soon as their jabber reached my ears and I heard the exact words "…my house for a movie tonight…" my black hole got deeper and I fell down into a greater level of passiveness.

I wasn't going anywhere after school. I would be by myself, something I had prayed for, for the last three years of my life. At this thought I had to fight off a smile. Me, my guitar, some smokes and my fire escape.

I strode into the classroom looking as cool and composed as I possibly could and took a seat in the back of the class next to an immature girl with two short braids and a geeky poser whose name I didn't know or care to know.

I could feel a couple people's eyes follow me into the room, including the grandmaster fucker himself; cowboy. But I didn't care. I had my blackness and the music playing in my head and that was all I needed.

I knew cowboy must be thinking what the 'fuck happened to him', along with a girl named Ophelia, one named Angie and druggie named Sadie all of whom consider them selves my 'acquaintance'.

Probably bunches of other girls in other classes would wonder the same thing within the next week or so. Of course non of them I had ever considered anything of, to me they were just people and I hate people, so really they shouldn't even be calling themselves my acquaintance cause I hate them all. Somehow, all I have ever had to do was listen to a girl jabber her fucking mouth off talking about shit and god know what (I never listened), and they're stuck on me, think we're the 'bestest of friends'. I mean of course I'm not bad looking, but c'mon, if I have never once talked _back_ to them don't they consider that I sign of some sort.

Oh well, now I'm free to tell them all to fuck off with out damaging my no existent rep (score!).

Eventually Angie and all them other whore's turned around once more to face the ever fervent Mr. duffy a.k.a. our homeroom teacher.

Though, even through my protective wall of darkness, I could feel cowboy's heated gaze. His eyes were scanning me like those metal detectors police use on TV, starting at my BLACK doc martins, going up the length of my BLACK straight-leg jeans, examining my BLACK Generation X fitted zipper hoodie and zooming in on my forehead where about a millimeter of BLACK dyed roots was visibly, protruding from beneath my hood.

Catching his gaze I pulled my hood down farther over my eyes so that not even my black roots could be seen.

He gave me a questioning yet caring look and raised his eyebrows perplexedly as if to say what's wrong, as if he cared about my well being, as if were my friend!

I have no friends!

You are not my friend, he is not my friend, she is not my friend, they are not my friends…nobody in this damn fucking world is my friend!

As if he actually cared if I was insane! Cared that I was unhealthily obsessed with black and completely paranoid! He could give a fuck about me and if I hadn't been an ex-friend of his, he probably would have gone on with his goddamn life!

I averted my eyes from his gaze and looked up at Mr. Duffy who was now taking attendance, adding in small tidbits of information after each name such as, oh so and so, you said you would make me an attendance folder and what ever happened to that essay of yours.

"Christian?" He called out like every other name.

Cowboy raised his hand coolly, his feet propped up on his desk, his headphones on.

"Music, please, Mr. Bale?"

I saw a flicker of a scowl form at the corners of cowboy's mouth as he hesitantly removed the headphones from where they were clamped down over his ears. I heard a faint whiff of Neil Young's 'Down By The River' before he turned off his Walkman and stashed it in his bag.

Mr. Duffy grinned widely at cowboy before moving on to Jude Carson.

As expected cowboy turned to me once more, trying to ask me unknown questions with his eyes.

Instead of answering his non-verbal questions, I flipped him off subtly underneath the desk.

He noticed.

"Michael Goorjian?"

I raised my hand, never taking my eyes of the top of my desk, intent on not catching cowboys gaze once.

I raised my eyes slowly and caught the fleeting glimpse of cowboy mouthing "your such a fucking poser," before I lowered my eyes once more.

He was officially against me and I didn't give a fuck.

Homeroom ended with a bash (for me and cowboy at least) and in lu of the events that had gone on during those fatal 10 minutes, I decided to walk around to the back staircase and take the long way to English.

Passing through two 3rd floor hallways, climbing the stairs and walking one 4th floor hallway, I landed my self in front of the English room, just as Ms. Shoenfeld was opening her door for my class.

I kinda liked English or rather I didn't fuck it over as I did with every other class. You see, in English we wrote poetry and my poetry usually ended up being converted to lyrics at some point. Therefore I figured it was useful towards my…err…music career. Fuck, what am I saying! Music isn't a career it's a life style. Man I sound like my mum.

And when I think about it, that was another thing that separated spot from me. He hated English! Called it a fucking phony class for preps.

At the time I had told him to go rent himself Dead Poet's Society and say that again after he had watched the movie.

But he was right in a way. Preps liked English but that's because preps weren't posers. And don't think I'm going soft, I fucking hate preps more then the next punk, but preps do whatever the hell they want (usually including shopping ect.). As long as they believe in money, money, and more money they're full-blooded preps.

After all prep is merely classified by their out look on life; it's all mental. And the prep outlook, which is the effect of having money, results in prep clothes. Therefore the appearance comes from the state of mind (if that makes any sense at all?)

Punk on the other hand, has such a specific wardrobe and non-expensive, that someone who doesn't have the punk mindset but likes the fashion, can easily infiltrate a rocker, no sweat.

This is me of course, rambling on about 2 of the subjects I am most passionate about, so it won't make any fucking sense to most people.

But anyway, conclusion; prep is only a mindset, a true punk has a punk mindset and English class is all about finding and unfolding your mindset through poems and story's. It's for kids to express them selves, not through their fashion, but through their mind.

English wasn't for posers whose mindset conflicted with their outward appearance. Spot was a poser. There for, English wasn't for him.

Fuck spot.

The English room was set up like a horseshoe so that every one could see everyone else's 'bright and shinning faces.' This was how Ms. Shoenfeld had explained her awkward set up of the room in the beginning of the year. I sat in the back of the room in the second horseshoe that circled in back of the first. As I have said I don't 'mind' English, so, although I wasn't dead center, I was one or two desks off from the middle of the horseshoe.

An artistic/cool geeky kid sat on one side of me, people called him Cosmic Charlie and on my other side sat Jack Flash… don't have much to say about him (hah! I've never said a word to him in my life!) Obviously cowboy had switched seats with the dude cause jack flash usually sat in front of me where cowboy was currently sitting.

As we settled down, hauling out are fucking huge 'life books' and tiny binders, Ms. Shoenfeld's eyes scanned the room, searching for gum chewer's, coat wearer's and hat bearer's.

Several kids got up and spit out their gum without her having to say a word though as usual the jacket wearers (usually slutty ghetto kids whose outfits were not 'appropriate for school') were being stubborn.

One at a time, she had to ask them to remove of their coats and reveal their boobilicious outfits to the class.

"Eileen, rose, marigold, Frank Lloyd; coats, off. And skits, your hood."

I froze. I had forgotten about _my_ hood. My black veil fell and I was left stranded.

"Skits, you heard me. Please take off your hood."

Hesitantly and numbly I reached up and touched my black veil, my comfort towards all the stares, and mechanically pushed it off my head, letting it thump against my back, my black hair falling into my face.

I heard small gasps of wonder as my black, black hair was revealed.

Quickly I looked down at my desk, hands in my lap and stared at the doodles and shout outs other students had scribbled down on its surface. I clenched my fists hard, hearing my knuckles crack and feeling a dull pain in my forefinger.

Slowly but surely Ms. Shoenfeld was able to regain the classes attention by pretending nothing had happened.

Every so often I could feel a kid staring, transfixededly at me and my blackness.

I hoped I scared the fucking shits out of them because I wanted them all to feel pain. I hoped they had a restless night of nightmares where I stabbed them all numerous times. I wanted to kill every single fucking one of those nasty stare'ers, slowly, painfully and without a fucking hint of mercy.

They had destroyed my veil and left me dilapidated, stripped of my confidence and my pride.

* * *

E Gasp skittery is begining to sound more and more like me each chapter lolz!

but anyways, ah well done well done you have survived my dismal chappie lolz.

next one will be better though i promise!

you may have also noticed that all the names in this chapter are songs; jumpin jack flash, cosmic charlie, sexy sadie, angie (rolling stones), opheilia (the band) and also donna (from hair), sheena is a punk rocker, lovely rita metermaid, jade is mick jaggers daughter, take a load off annie (if you sing it sounds like fanny from the weight by the band), molly's lips (nivana my love!)

also i have decided that from here on end all the chapters are going to be songs lolz!

REVIEW PLEASE!


	10. Get Off Of My Cloud xxx Rolling Stones

oh man i am sooooo so sorry! i like havnt updated in fo-evo! like...wait...ok so last time i updated was the 18th so ah... thats...thats... 24 days! i give you an A, thankyou lolz (woa i think i was just talking to myself but thats nothing new lolz.) ok so... i cam up with a plausible list of excuses para my tardyness, like i actually typed them up so here they are lolz:

ok i have been having slight...clears throat...social problems a mi esquela so yeah, that set me back a bit cause i can only write about what i want and i was wanting friends but skits doesnt wantfriends so there for i was having trouble cause yeah...but yeah...things sorted themselves out so its all good

ooooh i lost my mojo! missing mojo,very colorful those extremely morbid. may be armed with curses but do not fear it is harmless, if found return to countess von helfenstine. i guess someone did find it cause it had returned to me!

well i have more like schoolio work but yeah.

if anyone can guess all the song refrences in here i give them a zillion no...wait for a ca-zillion brownie point (aka points that have no real value but are filled with my undying love lolz) some are more obvious then other but yeah... if you know any it would make me uber happy lolz.

* * *

I left English my face burning red, as it had been the whole period.

I wanted to fucking cry my eyes out and was actually considering sneaking into the un-used teachers bathroom and doing just that. I wanted hurt on the outside and stop the emotional shame and ache. I wanted to let it all out, drain my worries through cuts on my arms.

What was I? I was a black wearing monster! Like some sort of creature from the wall, the one that Pink hides in before the concert, when he's half dead and all. Or the creature that the walls close in around, the one that doesn't notice when people scream at him. I'm that one; a freakish, nonchalant, oblivious, loser.

I didn't put my hood back on once I left Ms. Shoenfeld's room despite the countless amounts of stares I was getting from 9th graders and middle schoolers. I hadn't been able to build back up my black wall of passiveness and although every look my way stung like a razor, I let myself pine in freakish misery, too ashamed to pretend like I didn't care. My head pounded, my throat felt swollen and my heart… well it fucking got up and left a real long time.

I wanted to die.

I mosey-ed in misery down to the first floor where the gym was located and slipped into the boys locker room through the back door.

The only one who would notice my absence was cowboy but I knew he wouldn't tell anyone; he was a bastard but he wasn't a rat like spot.

So, I escaped into the locker room, planning to spend the hour and a half of gym finishing up a song I had started to write in English when I was trying to get my mind off of…ahem…certain issues. Of course, as I just said, my mind was thinking about other things, and upon opening to the page I had jotted said song down on, I realized it was complete shit.

Fucking pissed with life (not to sound emo), I kicked the lockers in front of me aggressively and listened as the sound rung out through the empty locker room.

Grabbing my fallen notebook, I took a deep inhale and exhale as my shrink had told me to when I felt particularly violent and depressed (who was he kidding, I was always depressed,) and began to write;

_Frustration and aggression, noteworthy peer affronts, _

_Reminds me I haven't cried in months,_

_I just sit here, in my black, black world and decay, _

_Who would want to burn themselves when they can fade away?_

Cowboy didn't try to talk to me in science though he did glance my way a couple times.

We were observing a sample of a salt marsh with our 'lab partners' but there were enough samples for the whole class so both him and I were able to go off into separate corners of the lab room without Mr. Chan fucking up our lab grades.

The period began smoothly and ended much the same. Once or twice I would look around the room, catching a few stares as I went, including cowboys. Becoming aggravated, I flicked him off around his 5th stare, fighting back a grin as he acknowledged the hand gesture.

Scowling, he bent his head towards his microscope once more though didn't look into lens. It looked a hell of a lot like he was pondering something hard, which made me chuckle for a second; cowboy thinking hard about anything was not something you see everyday. And for a moment I thought of teasing the hell out of him, though had to quickly check myself.

I couldn't talk to cowboy. If I did bad things would happen. I have no idea what other bad things could fucking happen after this week. I mean, I looked like the grim reaper turned punk, for one. I had just realized I was in hell and would be in hell for three more fucking years till I went to collage, where, for four years I would be in a less fucked up hell but hell all the same. Yes the future seamed bleak though despite my 'chemical in balance' it was hard to believe there was bad in the world I hadn't seen yet.

More bad things could always happen, I wasn't _that _fucked up, but at the time, I was sure I could survive anything that came my way. Well not survive but deal with. Anyway, I knew I could deal with anything.

I mean my greatest fear was people and I had survived around people for 15 years!

But… if I did talk to cowboy, not only would I be in fucking agony for the entirety of the conversation, but the irreversible might also become reversed. Things might go back to how they were before. Maybe we would settle our problems and I would be stuck in the same damn social situation I had been in through out 9th and 10th grade; in fucking hell anytime one of my supposed friends tried to talk to me. Maybe I would implode from the curses he would deal out if I talked to him. Maybe he would take up calling me unsocial Skittery, I don't know. But I sure as hell _did_ know I didn't want things to go back to the way they were, cause no matter how much fucking pain I was in, my mind wasn't so contorted that I couldn't remember how it used to be.

By the end of the class, after much contemplating, I held all faith in this 'prophecy' I had just sub-consciously come up with. The only way things could get worse was if I talked to cowboy. It was that simple.

As simple as this prophecy was, it was also incredibly and sadly wrong.

The clock struck 10:50 and Mr. Chan hustled us out of the lab, grabbing our labs sheets from us as we left.

Outside the classroom I pulled my hood over my head, until my eyes were only two round shadows. I knew this wouldn't stop spot or blink or any of them other fuckers from recognizing me but as I said before, my black veil had fallen; I needed physical black to hide myself away.

During gym I had thinking about how my lunch would go, finally deciding I would run downstairs with my bag and try to escape the lunchtime social scene while everyone else was still upstairs at his or her lockers. (Already I had a head start; the first day of school we had convinced Mr. Chan lunch let out at 10:50 instead of 11:00. No one told him other wise, so every Monday and Wednesday we got out 10 minutes before all the other classes.) And so, with the courtyard completely empty, I would walk to the star bucks where I had met Sheena that morning and read for the remainder of my free 45 minutes.

I knew Sheena wouldn't be there (she probably had school) but I dunno, for some reason I thought, maybe… she would show up, maybe she wasn't in school, maybe I would be able to talk to someone who didn't know anything about my past or my school life. Sorry, I'm just a fucking naïve little child, but still… despite my antisocialness… I kinda wanted to talk to someone who didn't know me and wasn't what the French call a fucking poser.

But, as I have foreshadowed above, things didn't go right at all. In fact my perfect peaceful lunch started and turned out to be incredibly shitty.

Dashing downstairs and into the courtyard I realized not only that I was too late and that half the school was already in outside, but that that half of the school happened to include spot and blink.

Without realizing it I tugged my hood farther over my head, hoping desperately they wouldn't see me and if they did see me, I wouldn't realize they had spotted me and do something incredibly stupid like run away.

I guess the Athien rulers decided they wouldn't murder me completely in that one lunch period, cause spot and blink kept on bitching and cursing like karma was just a word john Lennon had made up.

Breathing a sigh of relief I rounded the corner heading towards the star bucks I had met Sheena in only that morning.

Thinking I was home free I stupidly let down my guard (literally) and allowed my hood to slide back a bit on my head revealing my previously shadowed eyes and black roots. Well, smart motherfucker I was, for only seconds later I felt a hand reaching up and grabbing my hood, my veil, my protector, and yanking it down.

Suddenly black hair flooded my face once more.

I turned around calmly -though my insides could be described as anything but calm- to find blink's twin sis Margaret and her two henchwoman, Corrina and Prudence (hah! poor, poor child), giggling hysterically.

"Oh Skittery! Your hair!"

I shoved the hood back over my head, glaring at the lot of them.

"Well…it looks…ahem…good" Margaret could hardly contain herself as the words sputtered from her mouth "…I guess." Another seize of laughter took over her and she was held mute by glee.

Prudence (the one with the god awful name) stared at me sympathetically. I had gone out with her for a week sometime last year and it hadn't been a great trip, I can say that much.

Margaret attempted to speak again but was held captive by something I hardly saw as funny.

"No really, it looks…ahem…hott Skittery…it's just a new…um look." More giggles from Corrina.

You know I really didn't find anything funny about that situation. I mean, it could have been my hate for Margaret that was preventing me from laughing along. Or it could have been the fact that I hadn't laughed in months let alone smiled. Or it could have been they were all fucking posers like every other goddamn girl in this fucking school. I dunno, pick your choice, I still believe its all three.

While they had their laugh I tried to decide which twin was worse, blink or Margaret.

Margaret was the fucking biggest poser out there, I'm so serious. Like I know I say that about a lot of people but Margaret was literally a poser. And I know word for word how her poser-ness came about on account of blink complaining to us all how she was fucked up interms of style.

See, he had stubbornly tried to 'fix' her as he had put it, starting from the bottom, at the roots of our existence, what kept any punk rocker alive; drugs and rock and roll. Margaret refused drugs (after all that's what had gotten blink so screwed up) but was eager to 'fix' her taste in music.

Now, I believe that was the beginning of Margaret's poser-ness. You cant fucking 'fix' your taste in music! You're born that way, that's it and if you're born with shitty taste then suck it up soldier cause obviously that's what the Athien rulers want or else you would be different. It's that simple. There is no fixing.

So anyway, blink, despite both my and jack's arguments, began to preach to her the ways of the Beatles, slowly moving up to the Rolling Stones and then the Who, Zeppelin and so forth.

They got to Rod Stewart and what do you know, Margaret wants to be called Maggie May, which fucking pleased blink even more then crack!

Man was he naïve.

But, sure enough once they reached Janis Joplin's Big Brother days and Jethro Tull, 'Maggie may' (and I use that name with as much distain as fucking possible) called it quits and decided that she would wear punk rock but not be punk rock.

And thus… Maggie May was an actual, real live poser.

I had made out with her once two years ago, another one of blink's schemes to fix the bad egg his parents had birthed. It didn't work. I ended up with the disgusting taste of poser in my mouth (yes they do have a taste) and Maggie ended up with a mighty crush on yours truly. One more reason to hate blink.

Deciding that the twins were about equal in every way, I tuned back into their laughter.

"Are you guys done?" I asked impatiently, jamming the hood back over my head.

Prudence nodded her head shyly "sorry, skits. As Maggie said…its only change; cha, cha, cha, changes, faces change, cha, cha, changes."

Now I remember why I had gone out with her; she had a killer taste in music. She had always been a quiet one though, I thought pleasantly, suddenly wondering why she was hanging out with the other two fuckers to my left.

"Nah, it's ok." I muttered dryly, staring at the ground, hoping they would leave me alone if they realized I didn't want to talk (hah! I never wanted to talk).

But no sir'y, they had to pick yet another scab of mine, just to top off a perfect 10 minutes of a perfect day.

"So, why are you all alone, Mr. gloomy face? Unsocial Skittery not feeling very social?"

Even with my head bent I knew it was Maggie talking.

She had tried countless amounts of times to get into our 'group', first by using her twin-y connection, then making out with me, then cowboy. This year she was in Rita's homeroom so naturally she had tried to befriend her. Now Rita is a friendly girl but most friendly girls are bitches as well. Usually the quieter less obtrusive ones are the ones I can stand to be with, such as Kayla. So anyway, Maggie unfortunately began to take after Rita, which included calling me unsocial skits. Within a month Rita grew tired of Maggie as any partially sane person would, but Maggie being an extreme poser was not so happy to drop a 'cool' friend. So although Rita has probably forgotten her name, Maggie still uses 'unsocial Skittery' to make herself feel like she had a special connection with the almighty Rita.

Yes I do realize I know a lot about Maggie and yes I realize that for a poser she has a lot going on but I would like to remind you that posers and flakes are two separate things. Flakes have absolutely nothing under the surface while posers have a phony surface but complex roots. Kinda like icebergs, the parts submerged in water are much prettier then the parts out of water. I dunno, I was watching discovery channel and after I wrote a song about ice burgs and posers.

"I'm in a fight with my friends." I lied through clenched teeth, feeling the sympathy in prudence's eyes grow stronger with each word I said.

By then I was sure as hell she still had something for me just how I knew tonight she would go home and write a story all about my tragic existence. Either that or a million songs explaining how I was misunderstood. For not remembering anything about our relationship, I sure knew how the girl worked pretty well.

"You can come with us if you want?" Corrina blurted out as if she had Tourettes or something and could not hold back the words.

Truly I had never talked to Corrina in my life. She wasn't a poser just overwhelmingly weird. It looked as if one day she decided to be geeky, to stand out and be different then the crowd and had just got carried away to the point of no return. And as I was thinking these exact thoughts she started to randomly do a chicken dance as if to say 'we're cool! Look we're so cool we can do a chicken dance and not look like a dork.' Sorry Urcle, you could just be the biggest fucking weirdo I have ever seen and that's not a good thing.

So, I had damn hard decision to make. Go to lunch with super-poser, Ms. Chicken dance and the quiet one with good taste in music or go to star bucks and have a nice quiet 45 minutes alone with The Bell Jar and my one true love Janis Joplin.

Fuck chicken girl, Janis Joplin's my main woman.

"Uh…I'm meeting someone at starbucks." I lied yet again, desperately hoping they would fuck off at this remark.

Maggie snorted and flipped her black hair expertly out of her face, which made me wonder how long she stood in the mirror and practiced flipping her hair. I know she does that cause I've walked in on her standing their waving her fucking head back and forth to get her hair over her shoulder. Fucking poser.

"Hah, no you don't." She stated, looking at her own reflection in a passing bus.

I swear blink fucked this girl up. I rather she be a full-fledged prep then this monster she is now! What kinda punk looks at their reflection in the window of a bus!

"You're right, but now that I've majorly hinted I don't want to go to lunch with you, fuck off, ok?"

I started walk away again though thing 1 and thing 2 were right at my heals.

I could hear the quiet one telling the other girls to shove off and leave me alone and I silently thanked her, once again remembering why I had gone out with her; I had been a minor for a heart of gold and well, her heart was a full 24carrots.

"Awww unsocial Skits really _is_ unsocial." Maggie cooed, that fake meant-to-be-prep smile plastered upon her fucking ugly face with its smeared eye shadow and eyeliner running every which way. Man if she would just wipe off all that shit she would look half descent. And with blonde hair like her bro she would even be able to pull off a perfect Joni Mitchell, no sweat.

But as I have said before, born prep, turned poser.

"Pretty skits ain't got no friends till the, pretty Kayla comes around again." Corrina sung, her voice actually not too shabby.

For a second I wondered how she knew that song; she didn't strike me as a dead head at all. And then I remembered, she and mush had been best friends in 6th grade, before our 'tribe' had come about.

Suddenly Corrina went up 2 points in my grade book, leaving her at a three. I give you a D-, Corrina. Keep up the good work and you could be seeing a D+ sometime in the near future.

"Yeah, whatever." I mumbled, my head still down, looking at my feet running away from the gruesome twosome.

It looked as if prudence wanted no part in the brawl between her supposed friends and her ex, for she took her Walkman out of her purse and began to tune out the dispute.

Even though I didn't despise her and she wasn't causing any problems, her absence or lack of interest did mean 1 down 2 to go.

"Aww well skits, if you really are upset about your friends leaving you,"

At these words I glared up at Maggie though she went right on talking,

"Then you can just say your sorry and make all the boo boos go away," she mocked, before falling into yet another fit of giggles.

"C'mon Maggie, just fuck off, please!" I wined, hoping a less numb attitude would win me favor.

No such luck.

"Oh no, your coming with us." Corrina said as if it were one of the Ten Commandments.

"Oh no, I'm not!" I retorted in the same tone she had used, my feet picking up speed.

"You know you want to, c'mon unsocial Skittery."

Maggie began to drag on my arm in the direction of Paradise Café where all yuppies and posers hung out. Out of the corner of my eye I saw prudence roll her eyes; so she could hear us after all.

"No, I'm pretty sure I don't want. I dunno, but a little voice in my head keeps saying 'don't go with the blood sucking posers. They'll hypnotize you and convert you to their evil chicken dancing ways'"

Behind me prudence chuckled and I had to suppress a smile.

But unfortunately, to Corrina and Maggie it was like I hadn't even opened my mouth.

"We're going to give you social lessons, unsocial Skittery!"

"C'mon you guys sod off and leave the poor guy alone; the damage done already!" the quiet one said hotheadedly, turning off her Walkman.

'Nice Neil Young quote' I though sheepishly, wondering why our relationship hadn't lasted longer with an appreciation for music like the one she housed.

"Well, there you have it, the god has spoken and the god says to let the POW free and to call off all tortures scheduled for this lunch period." I said finally taking my eyes off the ground and looking around pleasantly at the mortified Maggie and Corrina.

Prudence shrugged, Quoting once more, "'I heard screaming and bullwhips cracking' and don't worry, they tried to convert me too"

Man when that girl spoke, she damn well knew what she was talking about!

She ended her sentence so that only I could hear her words which was probably a good thing too cause Maggie looked pissed,

"Oh your no fun, Pru! Well fine then unsocial Skittery, see you around."

I nodded my head nonchalantly and kept walking, saluting prudence before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

* * *

wow that was a long one... phew! cant garentee when the next one will be up but im not giving up on this no matter how long it takes.

oh credit to conrad for "what the french call fucking posers" line, yeah...lolz.

i'm soooooo sorry madamebutterfly for fucking up your charachter and you are aloud to flame me as much as you want and you can hate me for all eternity but you have to remeber this is in the scitzofrenic skittery's point of veiw so it has nothing to do with your character in fact i based her personality off peeps in my school. but your character idea helped me majorly so yeah... my pitiful soul is at your mercy, you have my loyal countess apologies.

i comand you toREVEIW (unless your madamebutterfly and then you can do anything you want cause she is the coolest person ever and im so sorry about fucking up your character!)


	11. Dreaming xxx Blondie

ok...since i have so many exscuses para mi tardiness every week i have decided to generate a daily or weekly or monthy reveiw of my exscuses to make everything much more organized...sigh...yes i know im pathetic but i dont care cause im stuborn.

DAILY EXSCUSES

my mum is dead! omg ok so you know how in the first ch i exsplained how this story is partly me and partly this dude in my school named alex but who i call the white noise guy (long story). well he's ded now! my muse is dead! he's turned (lowers voice) poser gasp!. its sooo sad, now he;s all social again and...and (choking on words) he has friends again! sob sob sob! and he doesnt even wear that much black anymore. i need a new muse! after i realised this tradgety i thought about this other dude who i based cowboy off of cause i thought he had broken up with his gf (molly in the story but kayla in real life) but i guess he hasnt cause i recently saw them snogging each other! sob sob!

so anyway my only motivation now a days is from needing to vent my anger towards man kind and high school higharchys. i also have taken up looking at newsie pictures even more then usual.

also my social life or lack there of is annoying me greatly. i want friends, i dont want friends...i just have a fucked up mind in general. so anyway yeah... ive been a bit preocupied with that.

im in like a 60's rock ditch and i really cant get into the punk thing even the old school punk as a matter of fact so i think im going to make sheena a bit more folky then skittery in order to balence out the scales and keep me intrested lolz. if you object please feel free to tell me and i will probably agree with you cause thats just the person i am.

mojo is missing...yet again. grrrr i think i need to get myself a more loyal mojo! bad mojo, where ever you are, bad!

my confidence and self esteem is ofically at 0. like officially...sooooo all the more reason to reveiw eh? and not to quote nixon but 'to the silent paint it black readers' please reveiw!

thats it for my exscuses. cant garentee when the next ch will be up but hey...as long as i post it eventually.

* * *

I lay on my back that night staring up at Kurt Cobain, trying to decide if my insomnia was caused by the crack I had smoked that afternoon, the beer I had recently downed or the angry thoughts bumping around my head.

Cowboy was a fucking wuss.

I mean, I knew blink was…and mush sure as hell was… but cowboy… always seemed so pure (not to sound like Bambi or Cinderella or shit).

I dunno. Sure I had called him a poser more times since last Friday then I had gotten high that entire month (which is saying something) but I had never really believed he was an actual poser…an authentic fake like Maggie. I had just called him that cause it was the meanest thing my fucked up mind could think of at the time. But now that I think about it, I realize the fact that he didn't approach me in science to even taunt me, shows he was scared shitless of what might happen if he did… like me I guess.

Fuck, now I'm being hypocritical, but its true…we were both wusses and that's why we had been friends for so long… we were both scared about breaking our relationship because we knew once it was broken it was broken. Both of us weren't carpenters when it came to relationships. We both didn't have the balls approach the other.

Coming to this conclusion I decided that I was, in fact, incredibly high and in the morning me and cowboy would be as different as love and fuck.

Though, despite this reassurance, the prospect of a connection with the little bugger kept venturing into my thoughts and finally, feeling nauseas and completely sick to my stomach, I rolled over on my side and forced the thoughts of hopefully seeing Sheena tomorrow, into my whirling mind.

Tomorrow I wouldn't have these sick thoughts of me and cowboy being linked, and I would write a song about him and how he could shove his wussy soiled heart up my purified ass. That is, after I wrote a song about what a coward I am.

Wasn't it Jerry Garcia who said you get your best material when you're high?

I silently agreed with the dude, as I stared over at my 'In Bed With The Dead' poster; however painful and sickening this crazy material was, it sure as hell would make a fucking awesome song.

I walked into the 19th street star bucks wearing my dad's old Tommy concert tee and pair of really tight, completely massacred black jeans. Before opening the door, I casually flipped up the collar of my black flannel shirt and strutted into the cafe, trying as hard as I could to look cool and composed; two adjectives I could never in a million years be described as.

My eyes darted hopefully towards the register near the back of the café, searching for Sheena, my one and only friend. As these thoughts surfaced I blushed profusely. I was calling a girl I had met only yesterday and exchanged 5 words with, my 'friend'. And not only that, my one true friend. Damn, I had known spot, the grand fucker himself, for 9 fucking years (9 too many years if you ask me) and I considered this college gal who flirted with me for 5 heavenly minutes, a better friend then him. I bet she thought I was a senior to boot or maybe even college freshmen!

I suddenly got a sick feeling in my stomach; only 4 days ago I had been contemplating my maturity right along side Kayla and mush and the rest of them…all kids I couldn't even exchange eye contact with now.

Struggling to remember my previous train of thought, I pushed Kayla from my mind.

Sighing with a certain degree of exuberance, my eyes acknowledged the ever-fervent Sheena at the cash register, her purple and red hair a blaze over the tops of the dreary headed businessmen and yuppies.

My stomach lurched again with embarrassment and I considered turning around and marching right out that door before she noticed I was there…hell she might never notice me but then again I don't blend in well, do I?

Though still, She probably gets 15 punks in there a day, why would she remember _me_. Hell, she probably doesn't even remember my name…though it is kinda hard to forget; you don't hear of many people calling themselves Skittery...but I bet tons of guys flirt with her. I mean, she's hotter then hell! Not to mention her boobs gave Donna a run for her money…another sick lurch.

I looked up suddenly at the sound of my name, only realizing then I had been standing in the doorway for the duration of that thought process, my eyes trained on my black Vans. I could feel my ears growing red beneath a blanket of black hair as I stared upon the beckoning Sheena.

"Skits" she called again, her painted red lips breaking out into a huge smile, her cat-like green eyes glowing like small forest fires.

Man that gal was smoking!

A mixture of surprise, excitement and nausea spread over my face though I tried desperately to hide the latter of the 3 emotions. My stomach bubbled with a dose of both optimism and pessimism.

I had been looking forward to this moment ever since I had last seen Sheena exactly 24 hours past, yet as the time came to chit chat and flirt as I had done yesterday, the growing sensation of fear began to creep through my bones.

I walked to the register almost in slow motion though my thoughts were flowing one after the other. The girl I was moseying on down to was my last friendly acquaintance and for some reason, can't guess why, I had the mounting notion I would fuck this last relationship up even more then I had me & Kayla's.

I approached the cash register which was conveniently unoccupied leaving Sheena and her fellow starbucks workers standing there like awkward morons in their black starbucks uniform. Well, one of them was a hot moron at least.

"Hey dude," she said pleasantly nodding a hello my way, "how goes it?"

Nice, SLC Punk quote.

"It goes good," I said in the same nonchalant tone, nodding my head sub-consciously, "y tu?"

She giggled at my lousy Spanish accent before responding, "as good as it gets."

I smirked. Damn her and her creative responses.

"Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly after a short and painful moment of silence, "so, how did your amigops at schoolio like your hair?"

I shrugged.

Fuck no, I hadn't meant to shrug. No, no, no I would not shrug when I was around Sheena!

The night before I had been practicing verbal communications with my Iron Butterfly poster and I was sure as hell I was over my shrugging days…but then again maybe not. Well, I mean the poster was in fact paper and the girl in front of me, how ever hott, was in fact 3D…but still…god I'm such a dumb fucker. Bad Skittery, bad!

Desperately wishing I could take back that rise and fall of my shoulders, I went on hoping a thorough answer to her question would make up for it.

"Well truth be told, I don't have very many…ahem…amigops. In fact I'm pretty sure most of the school was laughing at me but hey…no matter."

Aw shit, man I just couldn't keep my head straight about these things. You don't tell a tart you don't have friends…I mean…it's just not what you do! Its turns them off! Awwww, fucking hell skits, fucking moron!

As I said this I could feel Sheena's smokey eyes looking me up and down almost agonizingly; starting at my black Vans, moving on up to my massacred extremely tight black jeans, and then on to ripped black flannel shirt and faded Tommy tee.

I shook my black hair out of my eyes to better see her expression.

She wasn't looking at me with disdain just curiosity I guess; how could a kid like this have no friends.

Suddenly conscious of her own stare and the odd expression on her face, she smiled to herself as if to show me she was pleased with my outfit and whatever else she may have been checking out (both Kayla and race, once upon a time, had told me that my ass looked really nice in those jeans.)

And yes I am doubting race's 'sexual orientation' but even when I was his friend I could care less. Half the kids in my school were Bi anyway including Rita. Actually, sexuality might be the only thing my school is tolerant of (or my grade at least). I mean, all the influential and popular people in my class were bisexual so that leaves the rest of the grade to follow in their lead.

Sheena shook her head a bit and some how pried her curious eyes off my ass, still smiling.

"Has anyone ever told you your ass is simply splendiferous?"

If it were anyone else saying this I would either have laughed myself silly over their vocab when describing an ass or flipped them off; depending on who it was. But as the words escaped Sheena's beautifully tinted lips, all I could do was turn a fiery crimson.

"Well your not exactly lacking in the caboose either." I replied amiably, glancing quickly down at her oh so fine ass.

"Oh, it's these pants they make us wear. My boobs look pretty big in this shirt too…huh…wow I never noticed that…maybe the starbucks fashion designer was straight after all." She looked down at her rak and bounced around slightly, examining the size of her boobs.

Suddenly my dick got hard. I blushed yet again, and carefully crossing my legs, one in front of the other as my dad had once instructed me way back when, but the damage had been done.

"I saw that," she sniggered, finally laying her boobs down to rest "and man if I had a dick, which I don't if you were wondering, it would be red flagging too."

I managed a scared chuckle, looking around the group of oblivious yuppies desperately hoping they had seen and heard nothing whatsoever of the scene that had just taken place.

She went on just as nonchalantly as before, "Sorry bout that, I'm feeling kinda lousy this morning so I'm just rambling. Please feel free to tune out to talk of my boobs and my nonexistent dick…unless of course these topics interest you, then by all means please take notes." She smiled toothily, leaning her elbows against the cash register and putting her head in her hands, drawing my attention to her eyebrow piercing.

"So anyway…oh friends…yes friends. Well, friends is an interesting topic I don't know much about…see all my friends live inside my head," she ended her sentence on a slightly quieter note waiting for me to strike up my end of the conversation.

I realized at that moment I wasn't all to bad at flirting. I mean, Kayla had once pointed this out to me when I was trying to whew jade during one of her and blinks mellow periods or 'hot chocolate periods' as blink liked to call them. I'm fucking horrible with people (as you quite well know) but…flirting's… flirting's different. See, I figure with flirting you got nothing to lose…they either like you or they don't. You cant fuck up the relationship cause its nonexistent as of then. You have no worries and are free to say whatever floats your boat. And usually what ever floats my boat is what people want to hear but I'm just too paranoid to say it in normal conversation. Anyways, you only flirt with people you like and if I like a person I have no problem talking to them, so there you go… yes I know my logic is stifling but bare with me, it all makes sense when you think about it...really, really hard.

"Well imaginary friends are your only true friends." I stated calmly, sticking my hands briskly in my pockets; I should know after all.

"No, no not imaginary friends. Real people. Well dead people," Sheena's eyes darted up towards the ceiling, her tone just as pleasant and easy going as before "you see, Kurt Cobains in my head. I think he's quite happy in there but I've never been very good with people so I'm not quite sure."

Man, this fucking girl was sent to me from god! 'No good with people'…fuck yes, that's what I'm talking about! Thank you Athian rulers!

"Well in that case Janis Joplin's made a cozy little home in my antisocial thoughts as well. Maybe Kurt Cobain and Janis Joplin would like to get together sometime?" I alluded slyly, raising one eyebrow oh so talently.

"Well, well, well Ms. Joplin. A bit flirtatious aren't we now, my dear. Well I do say, Kurt Cobain is quite a catch… as well as the boy standing in front of me."

I smiled gingerly. This was all to good to be true. Seriously! Suddenly I had the fleeting notion it would all bite me in the ass during school (not Sheena just the fact that I was actually smiling and enjoying myself.) But the feeling didn't last long; what does 6 hours in hell compare to 20 minutes in heaven.

"What's that you say Ms. Joplin? Kurt's a sexy beast? Well, you could say the same about the dude whose head you occupy."

I wasn't quite sure who she was talking to. Yeah, I know Janis Joplin and she _was_ staring at my forehead where all my evil thoughts dwelled but it was starting to creep me out a bit. I've never been very good with make believe and in all my stories when I was younger the main dude dies a tragic death. Love was never on the menu and certainly nothing like this was ever served, on a platter of creepy allusions. Owell, I wasn't complaining. Sheena had gotten her point across (that I was a sexy beast) and whose to argue.

"a-ha Kurt, my dear friend" I started up exuberantly, half surprised that my voice could even hold so much passion and drama, " you sure do have a fine taste in rooming. Seriously this girl is smokin'! Well all in all we're both pretty well off I suppose. You get Ms. Joplin here and hopefully I'll bag this one." I nodded my head towards Sheena, more specifically her large boobs.

Sheena giggled, "I have work tonight but how's bout a movie tomorrow?"

Curses, foiled in the end! I had reached a dead end in the road to a perfect 10 minutes.

"Arg, cant tomorrow," just saying those words stung like a fucking bees nest, "I have guitar. But the dude who teaches me is pretty cool; he'd probably let you jam with us if you want…"

Shit, I was just assuming she played? Maybe she wasn't even into real punk…maybe the punk rock Sheena is more of an emo Sheena…she did have all those piercing… and Kurt Cobain and grunge in general is mistaken for emo a lot too…oh god please don't like shit, please don't like shit! "That is if you play…" I put in hastily, crossing my fingers.

"I would simply love to jam with thee, which pretty much answers your second question but just to be on the safe side… yes, I play guitar. In fact, got my acoustic in the back room," she nodded her head towards the doorway in the corner.

If she wasn't already hott, just the fact that she played guitar turned me on majorly. Man, am I musically shallow.

"And why, may I ask, are you carrying a guitar around Chelsea? NYU's band room not good enough?" Fuck, I hadn't meant for that statement to be so harsh.

Though if my words were brash Sheena didn't seem to notice; she actually seemed pleased with something I had said cause she giggled yet again.

Suddenly the image Kayla flashed across my mind. Fuck Kayla, fuck Kayla, fuck Kayla. Hell, I did miss her though, no matter how many times I told my self I wasn't supposed to. Fuck, I couldn't help it.

"Silly goose, I'm not in college. Hell, I'll probably never finish high school," She chuckled to herself before continuing. Damn she was hott. "No, I'm in junior year. I go to Notre Dame…the fancy pants, richy bitchy school near 15th street."

Why the hell was she going to Notre Dame! Man no wonder she didn't have any friends.

"I'm the only gal who plays guitar out of all those fucking preps so I'm kinda the music teachers pet. Actually he's like my only friend too so…yeah… as you can see I fucking hate that school and all those rich bitch bastards." She ended casually as if stating what she was planning on eating for lunch.

Suddenly I had an urge to tell her of my loser-ish tendencies as well and before I knew it I was informing her of my antisocialness and how I considered her my only friend.

Once again, when you flirt you have nothing to lose, so naturally I was playing my cards like crazy.

Suddenly I had the feeling I had just crossed the line between cute loser and stalker. In fact, I was half expecting her to walk away from me that instant; what any sane person would have done upon hearing they were a stranger's 'one true friend'. But then again Sheena wasn't exactly sane.

Her smile broadened if that was at all possible, "I have a secret," she beckoned me with her finger before gingerly grabbing my Tommy tee and pulling my ear towards her lips, "you're my only friend too."

Lava erupted in my stomach and I seriously felt like one of the fucking cartoons on the Disney channel when they fall in love. Not saying I was in love…well not seriously _in love_ like me and Kayla were…fuck why do I keep thinking about Kayla! Fine…in short I really, really, liked Sheena… _really_ liked her.

Letting go of my tee shirt she grabbed my hand and began to pull me along the barrier of a counter top that separated the two of us, lifting our gasp over the heads of her co-workers and the coffee machines, until we reached an opening in the long blockade. Suddenly she jerked my arm through the small opening, my body following along merrily and led me to a small room in back of the star bucks.

"Wait here," she said pleasantly, slipping through the door and shutting it once more in my face.

Of course I waited. I would have waited hours if she had told me to.

As this sudden allusion to time surfaced, I quickly checked my watch. I had 10 minutes until schoolio started. Though even as I obtained this information (that another session of torture would commence in 10 measly minutes), my stomach did not jolt or even rumble, as it had yesterday.

It had finally dawned on me that it was ok for someone my age not to have friends and be an outcast. Your popularity had nothing to do with you… just everyone else I guess. Sheena didn't have any friends yet she was fucking gorgeous and had an awesome personality. I didn't have any friends and apparently I was hott too though I couldn't say the same for my personality. And if Sheena could live for years without talking to any one but a fucking music teacher then hell, so could I!

There wasn't a damn thing wrong with me anyways. After all Sheena was perfect and we were both in the same boat when it came to popularity and socialness.

The door swung open once more and Sheena gradually strutted out of the back room, her guitar case slung around her back and her red/purple hair in two loose braids falling just below her shoulders.

I smiled slyly to myself gazing upon this quirky beauty…fuck, I love you too, god.

* * *

ok i know its kinda unlikely for a chelsea starbucks to be empty at 7:30 in the morning but bear with me...you never know lolz...

i do realize that this ch makes sheena seem abit mary sue-ish but dont worry the next will surly dispell all thoughts of her bearing mary-sue qualities.

thanks to all who reveiwed and im sry these past ch have sucked balls but ill try and get my self back in the swing of things soon...hopefully.

reveiw!


	12. Happiness Is A Warm Gun xxx The Beatles

THERE IS NO DOWNTOWN NOTRE DAME! ok now that i have your attention there is no notre dame located down town so i have decided to place it there and make them wear uniforms and make it an all girls school. lolz. so really just make Nightengale called notredame and put it 4 blocks away from lab you got yourself a prep school.

DAILY EXSCUSES:

self esteem is still gone even more now its like in the negitives! and people wonder why6 im so apologetic. and seee, the reason for this downfall is because a...aquaintence of mine who likes to remind me of how stupid and loserish and meani am constantly when really she is the most unfair, nasty person i have ever met!grrrrrr. sry for that little portkey into my social life lolz. which is noexsistant.

OMG, ok my muse which im tired of calling my muse so 'white noise guy' is going out with a prep! can you believe that? the nerve! and he's social with ehr and...and (sob, sob) whaaaaaa!

im also having trouble writing chapters that dont include people being abusive and horrible to skittery for that is my present situation and i like writing about things that are happening to me. but awell.

ok this is like one of the only chapters that hasnt happened to me or hasnt happened to someone else i know or i havnt beared witness too. it was kinda spontanious but owell. hope you likey!R/R!

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Since Notre Dameand the NYC lab school were only 4 blocks apart and I had time, I decided to walk Sheena to her school. Well actually we decided or more like she did and I agreed to it.

"You wanna walk with me to my schoolio? We can give all those preps a good scare."

I nodded. "Sure dude. We are scary are we not?"

"Terribly frightening…to them of course. I for one think we both look perfectly scrumptious," she stated pleasantly in a mock hoity-toity English accent, making dainty hand gestures as she went.

"As do I!" I proclaimed, thoroughly liking this game of accents and characters, "billionaires these days, their minds are so crooked."

"Yes, yes," she exclaimed in the same snooty accent, "tainted by all that devilish money!"

"Yes, indeed."

There was a moment of silence and out of the corner of my eye I saw Sheena uneasily shift her guitar from one shoulder to the over, her schoolbag thudding against her knee in harmony with her gait. She had on a bright, bright, bright orange coat with a teddy bear like hood that reminded me of the cover of the of Paul Simon's self-titled solo album. Besides for her coat though her outfit was pretty plain. A bleak school uniform could be seen awkwardly jutting out where the coat gave way to her lovely legs, clad in blue fishnets. Her red and purple braids swung freely as we walked.

She turned and smiled at me, her whole face consumed in happiness though a twang of embarrassment at the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, could we switch to southern, I really ain't all that good at English accents." A now Outsiders-like, southern accent filtered her voice and words. Another nervous smile stretched over her lips; puzzling me greatly while turning me on at the same time.

"Sure thing, doll face." Kayla flashed across my mind causing my smile to falter momentarily, "so where the fuck is this hell-hole school of yours, any who?"

I knew exactly where it was. Snoddy had gone to the military school, Xavier, right next-door place for part of high school and I had gone to visit him and all his druggie friends tons of times during 8th grade. I just wanted her to keep talking in that fucking adorable southern accent. Oh man, I'm strange… but so is Sheena so its ok… well I feel ok about it anyway.

"We don't got much further; couple'a blocks. It ain't much, really," she huffed out (southernly of course), her guitar swinging to and fro on her back.

"Oh, ma'am I'm so sorry! Would'ja like some help with that there lovely gui-tar of yours?"

She giggled, "It ain't that much farther, really. I think I can manage…"

"No, no allow me…"

She giggled yet again. Man that girl likes to laugh; even molly didn't laugh that much.

"Well, if you insist…" She swung the guitar haphazardly off her back, smiling impishly in my direction all the while.

"What?" I asked slyly, automatically adopting the same smirk she was sporting oh so sexily.

"Here come the bitch bastards," she whispered in my ear, dropping the southern accent sub-consciously.

Sheena lingered by my ear as I whirled around, the guitar thudding against my back.

Down the street walked… no strutted… three blonde bombshells, decked out in diamonds and Tiffany's galore. Their coats looked expensive, their shoes looked expensive, their hair looked expensive, even their tights (which I presumed were not part of the uniform judging by Sheena's fishnets) looked expensive. _They_ looked expensive.

"Five to one they come over here and start talking to you," Sheena whispered gleefully, her nose but an inch away from my ear, her presence hanging over my shoulder.

I wouldn't be surprised if they did; punks always seemed to attack city preps. I guess they like to feel naughty and rebellious which I always found ironic cause really they're the grand villain themselves. Hell, they must steal a couple hundred from their old man every week! Just pinch his credit card for a day or two, no biggie.

Sure enough the three fuckers strutted over to us measly punks, bathed in their own almighty superiority, and struck a pose in front of me. Sheena gave me a knowing smile, placing a possessive hand on my shoulder. For someone who didn't have many compadres she sure did know how to seduce a dude such as my self.

"They're going to introduce themselves to me and then…don't be alarmed…but they will infact try to hypnotize you. There I said it…but it's the truth."

"Hi, your Lena right?" asked one of the girls with particularly high arching eyebrows, turning her attention to the tart whose arm was currently on my shoulder (Score!)

"Sheena yeah, your um… Laura, Maia and Rachel right?" Sheena responded casually, looking each of the girls over.

The girl on the far left nodded, looking at Sheena as if she were wearing a cow shit. How could it be that someone as unpopular as this chick could know my magnificent, sacred name!

"Who are _you_?" the girl next to her asked flirtatiously, puffing up her chest to make her boobs look even bigger.

"Yuraslut." I replied amiably, sub-consciously grinning toothily at the three whores in front of me.

Beside me I heard Sheena muffle a laugh as the girls looked at me, faces askew with confusion.

"What?" asked the girl with the fucked up eyebrows in that stereotypical prep voice. I had the sudden desire to mock her aristocratic tone but managed to control myself.

"Yuraslut," I repeated as if nothing were wrong.

Oh man, this was fun! Sheena began to crack up next to me, no longer able to contain herself. I grinned at her briefly before turning back to the dumbfounded blondes.

"Are you like from India or something?" the one in the middle asked, smiling warmly.

Suddenly laughter took hold of me and I collapsed next to Sheena, heaving with amusement. The girls on either side of the idiot gave her a disgusted look (similar to the one they had given Sheena upon introduction) and shifted their million dollar bags uneasily on their shoulders.

"Fuck off you dumb whores." I managed to get out between fits of laughter.

Naturally they fucked off, strutting away irritably as they had come.

I desperately hoped I had fucked up their morning for them but I doubt I had made more then a small dent. Once they got into school everything would be a game again and they would be praised from the moment they set foot in that building to the moment they were back out on the streets again. And then they would go home to or go shopping for the rest of the afternoon and spend a fucking fortune. Wait, no they wouldn't go home; preps never go home unless the need more money or need sleep off a hangover. Or host a million other preps. They would go over to a friend's house and buy stuff online till dawn.

Just thinking about their breezy lives made me hate them even more. Hopefully karma will kick in eventually but for now the fucking prep's got 1/1000000 of what they deserve.

Sheena looked up at me her eyes brimming with glee, "Man you did a service for all of New York. Here," she pompously handed me a very official looking piece air, "here is a certificate of honor that says--incase you cant read invisible ink--'I fucked up 5 minutes of a preps life.' And from all of us here at Sheena's Pleasure and Co., thank you."

I grinned at her broadly, glad she approved.

It was only then that I realized that I was really happy. Happy like I hadn't been in forever. Since me and Kayla were first going out in 8th grade. Sure making out with Donna had been a mood-booster, but as I laughed there with Sheena having just ruined 5 whole minutes of prep's life, I felt truly happy. Not just giddy for a few seconds…but my mood felt…I dunno… bubbly; I was genuinely content. And it felt weird. But it felt good too. There were no perks to it. It wasn't like being high cause I knew an hour later I wouldn't be hurling on someone's carpet. It wasn't like having sex either where the bliss is only protecting you from realizing how truly nauseating you are.

This was sheer fun; it wasn't dirty, or illegal and didn't involve fucking. And I liked it. I wanted to be happy all the time.

It was also then that I realized how much I truly missed Kayla.

* * *

oh wasnt it simply dreadful! the chapter that is! you see, tyhat is my negitive self esteem talking lolz. ok im scaring my self.

thank you so much for all of you who reveiwed! next chappie hopefully up soon!

R/R


	13. Unfaithful Servant xxx The Band

Hola dudes! ok i dont know how long this chapter took me (my sense of time in general is way off cause my watch has condensation it! its really cool though so i dont blame it lolz) but i think it was a while. i feel it in my bones lolz. haha wasnt that a line from harry potter? omg cedric digery is my lover lolz sry (hmmmmm mrs. hallie digery...doesnt sound half bad.) wow sry im getting really distracted!

DAILY EXSCUSES:

i was pocrastinating majorly and i admit to it totally. haha Procrastinators Annoymous! haha molly, Fanfic readers annoymous and KCA! sry. wow sry im tired and listeneing to matty groves joan baez style! haha

omg im so happy! the two mean people have turned into one! horay!well the other one is still there but she only insults me personality, not my mind and writing( which put me down greatly.) actually the girl plays maggie in this chapter!

thats all for my exscuses and im happy to say my self esteam is fairing much better thanks to mi amiga anna and rustie! gracias mis amigas! this is basically a day in the life of hallie (the writed of this story lolz in case there was so confusion.) actually its exactly a day in the life (from my point of veiw for all who would like to argue for arguements sake)

R/R!

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**Prudence's POV**

I walked into paradise that Wednesday afternoon 15 minutes later then I usually do though it didn't feel any later. Quite frankly I liked the change of scene how ever small. The usual crowd of dreary yuppies was down to about 4, a vast improvement from the typical 15 or 20 who, on a daily basis, took up countless amounts of tables with their laptops and briefcases.

Maggie and Corrina had skipped ahead of me while we were moseying back from getting new metro-cards at the office, oblivious to the fact that if they both left I would be alone. Of course, _I_ didn't mind being alone. Unfortunately, the lab school society seemed to think other wise and condemned it greatly. If you were a girl and you were found alone it either meant you were a freak or depressed, two qualities I could easily be described as, but that wasn't all. Your 'friends' would then be hounded as to why you were alone, people would expect you to cry, guys would try to hit on you…in short, being alone could very well be considered self-destructive in the Lab society.

Any way, they had skipped ahead, calling back something about being late to see their friend, the owner of paradise. I nodded at their slowly disappearing figures.

"Ah fuck them, their both lesbians any who," I muttered to myself as I turned up the volume even higher on my headphones, "Most likely humping each other right about now."

This hypothesis probably wasn't all that far from the truth for both girls had a tendency for 'mounting' things and shamelessly did so in public. In fact they had made up a song to sing while they humped each other and, however disturbing this song was, it gave me a good laugh. Though Corrina always seemed to take my amusement the wrong way and usually resorted to singing louder in order to get another hark out of me. Little did she know I wasn't laughing with them.

I never partook in the singing of said song though having heard it so many times I can pretty much recite the fucker through and through;

"We're a big fucking family, family, family.

We're a big fucking family, fucking night and day!

Baby likes to fuck his toys,

Uncle likes to fuck little boys

Brother likes to fuck sister

And Grammy likes to fuck the Mister

The mommy and the daddy do it all night long

And that is why we sing this song!"

The song sucked balls though both girls were particularly proud of it, Corrina more so then Maggie. Corrina was always showing it off to passersby, receiving dubious glances from Maggie who was far saner then she (although in this case sanity is subjective.)

For you see, Corrina considered it a great feat to have befriended Maggie, someone entwined in the high school social ladder (how ever grimy her rungs were.) And Maggie never ceases to remind Corrina of her shabby roots; namely having me for a best friend of 6 years.

She's always asking her questions like 'oh what would you do without me, my love?' and Corrina responds 'I would simply die of depression. OH such a boring life I would be doomed to! My soul dwindling away and day by day becoming an old spinster like Prudence!' At this point in their lust fest Maggie would turn towards me and say simply 'oh we love you, Pru.'

I would smile mechanically and turn up the volume on my headphones.

Near the cash register I saw Maggie and Corrina, walking 'grind' style, as I like to call it, along the slowly moving line. Maggie had her hands in Corrina's pockets and was laying her head on her shoulder, bodies no more than an inch apart. Both of them were lesbians; there was no doubt about it.

Suddenly, Maggie let out an unearthly giggle, setting off a flurry of annoyed looks from the yuppies, and her hand went to her mouth as some one shushed her.

I realized a few seconds later that this person was molly with a disheveled cowboy and calm Kayla at either side. Rita stood at the front of their long procession, elbows resting on Kayla's shoulder. Cowboy looked a bit annoyed about something, maybe the fact that he was being forced to mingle with these posers, I don't know. Rita seemed sorta aggravated as well and it was obvious she was not directly any of her words towards Maggie for fear of her clinging on in homeroom as she had done for the greater part of that year.

I approached the boisterous group unnoticed and expecting to go unnoticed for the remainder of the lunch period, for my presence never held much impact when in came to Maggie social excursions. But I had forgotten. When ever one of 'the special' ones was around, Maggie and Corrina thought it vital to flaunt their weirdness as if to show cowboy and all of them just how coolio they were. Unfortunately, this meant promenading me and my sick ways, about like a fucking freak show.

"Mi amigo, Fernandez!" Corrina proclaimed causing the groups attention to turn from Maggie and on to me.

I knew for a fact she had stolen this saying from her brother.

Molly, Kayla and Rita gave me a nod of hello. Cowboy actually seeming delighted by my presence and grinned toothily as I got into line behind the two fuckers, a new lip piercing rising and falling with his exhibit of glee.

"What's happening, pru?" he asked gleefully, showing off his knowledge of my nickname. A hand appeared a bit over my eye level, which I presumed he intended me to 'high five' so I did.

"Eh, nothing new. Y tu?"

"Same, ya… congrats on your 3rd place talent show win."

I smiled shyly; why was he talking to me? My gaze traveled over to Molly who really didn't look too keen with this conversation either and actually seemed thrilled when Corrina started talking.

"Next year we're gonna do something a bit different though, right Mags?"

Maggie smiled at her, starting to sway back and forth, Corrina's ass still in her crotch.

"Oh yes, a little more funk." She shook her ass spastically.

Rita made a strange face and Maggie decided to correct herself, "um, with its fair share of rock…oh course." She laughed nervously which made me happy; suffer, little Maggie, suffer!

"Hey pru, what are you listening to?" cowboy asked, an anomalous expression on his face, kinda like a dying dog or something.

A painful nudge from molly went into his side. Was he flirting? Molly was known for being over protective of her Bf but still…no one had flirted with me since Skittery…happened…I guess.

"Um…" I struggled to remember what was nearly bursting my eardrums, the prospect of someone flirting with me making me feel light headed and giddy, "Spooky Tooth."

At this mentioning, Maggie's ears perked up; an opportunity to show off to the cool kids.

"Oh my god I was just listening to that song by them…um… Starman…"

"That's…a…a Bowie song" Kayla interrupted tentatively, breaking her soporific silence once and for all.

My insides went bubbly as Maggie blushed and stammered out excuses, finally stating, "I always get them mixed up."

Rita smiled comfortingly though the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust. An awkward silence set about our group of 7, interrupted only by a hippie-ish waiter who wanted to know what we were ordering.

Corrina turned towards the still awed Maggie and asked her in her most queer yet laughable of voices "hey, ya want our yummy-yucky sandwich?"

The yummy-yucky sandwich was me and Corrina's thing! We had given it said name not her and Maggie! Grrr how dare she!

Maggie nodded and forced an embarrassed smile. Oh, she would get over it within the next 60 seconds; unlike a balloon Maggie never deflated for long.

Rita who was in front of our long line, quickly ordered, her words crashing into one another leading me to assume this was her 'usual'. Kayla, unlike Rita, hesitated before ordering a mozzarella sandwich.

"Deliciouso!" she proclaimed, licking her lips mockingly as the sandwich was taken out of a glass case and put on a plate.

As they ordered Corrina decided to finally talk, feeling more comfortable with a smaller audience (although cowboys ego was a person by its self) "Ooh did you guys hear about that grateful dead box set? The movie is supposed to have all these great guest dudes in it like the Band and Janis Joplin and stuffs…"

Cowboy sniggered under his breath "there should be fine for calling Janis Joplin stuff."

Corrina ignored his comment or at least her inimitable facial expression did not falter.

Suddenly Kayla turned around from where she had been viewing the completion of her sandwich, "Ya! Me and skits were gonna split it cause its like 50$ something but…I dunno anymore."

Just hearing his name sent shivers up my spine. Kayla looked a bit shaken as well and I got the feeling she was wishing she hadn't brought him up.

"What happened to skits…any who?" I asked sheepishly, hoping no one would hear the wistfulness hidden in my voice.

"Haha!" Maggie stated loudly, not as much laughing as telling everyone else that what I said was funny. "And you should ask!" she exclaimed, violently flipping her hair over her shoulder and looking at her reflection in the glass counter.

She had just inflated again.

Kayla gave me a strange look and although it wasn't as much hateful as questioning, I knew she must think it pathetic I still liked him. It had been a fling and a year ago at that. But I hadn't had a boyfriend since then… and neither had she.

"Agh the black!" molly squealed melodramatically, "the over whelming black! Noooooo!"

Cowboy and Rita both burst into fits of laughter… and naturally as soon as Rita laughed Maggie did, which led to Corrina laughing her dorky little laugh as well. And thus, in the end Kayla and I were the only ones deprived of glee.

"His hair is a trip, man! And all the doc. Martins-y stuff could give SLC Punk a run for their money! Hah actually he looks a ton like heroin bob! Doesn't he?" Rita pressed fervently, her smile broad and unfaltering.

She looked like a little preschooler pointing out the shapes of clouds. No one responded though I could tell molly mulled it over for a second. Maggie nodded her head yes though I know she had never seen the movie.

"Hah the little fucker," cowboy chuckled callously "I think he had some sort of a mid-teen crisis. Fuck, he's even more of a poser now, wearing all that black and shit. Can you believe he called _me_ a poser the other day! Right in class too and even after I was trying to be all nice and understanding and shit. Man, that kid is fucked up." He hugged molly closer to his hip as if to reassure himself that not everybody in the world was like Skittery.

"OR! Or!" Rita started up once more, turning away from me and the Corrina-Maggie creature to my right and facing cowboy, "he's just discovering he has schizophrenia or something cause I read somewhere that you start seeing symptom-y things when your around 17 and 18!"

Whoa Rita read! Well you learn something knew every day.

But she wasn't done "and that's why he's wearing so much black…cause he had like…a mental breakdown!"

Suddenly Kayla's eyes flashed scathingly at cowboy and Rita and her face turned crimson.

"You fucking bastards, leave the poor dude alone! You're the one who did this to him, Rita! You and spot and blink! Don't tell me you thought he liked being called 'unsocial Skittery' cause he didn't! You're such a fucking whore! I mean…what the fuck are you talking about! How can you even think he's crazy! Hell, he was sane enough to get away from you! And you…you cowboy…I thought _you_ at least would be better then this and act mature about it and realize its probably something mental and he could really be sick…and this whole black thing could be dangerous but hey, I've been proved wrong before, haven't I? So…so you know what, just fuck you! Just fuck you for saying that, and…and fuck you for thinking that! And I…I really don't want to be hearing any more of this."

Even from where I was standing, a chill went up my spine as cold air gushed into the café and Kayla stormed out. Through the large stain glass window I saw her break into a run, her colorful scarves billowing behind her as the April sleet blew in from all sides creating a vibrant scene of chaos.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw molly hit cowboy on the arm, "see what you've done." Cowboy put up his hands in defense and retorted with a simple 'but it was true' earning him another punch. Rita looked down at her feet dutifully before lifting her blonde head once more to show a striking smile, her eyes free of guilt. "Yeah," She muttered oddly to her self, collecting her bagel and cream cheese. Another punch to cowboy's arm.

I turned to look at Maggie and Corrina who had finally melted back into two separate people standing side by side. Corrina shrugged as she caught my gaze before giving me a sheepish smile. I tired to smile back but I'm pretty sure it turned out looking like a dead clown or something.

"Your such a loser," Maggie teased although I hadn't said a word.

"Ok," I muttered dismissively, turning up my Walkman so that perhaps ears would be spared from any further incompetent insults.

Always the wishful thinker, I am.

* * *

haha wasnt it just dreadful! i hoped i havnt killed any of you! hehe 

Gracias to all who have reveiwed and are planning too.

Ozzmandius king of kings: hehe your reveiw made me giggle and i know im gonna see you manana so theres not much i can say to you, mr...mrs lolz. cause you are after all married to draco! cursed aremaia, rahcel and laura! haha

Rustie73: thank you so much my compadre for you scared off my negative self esteem and its not going to come back no more, no more, no more (or at least for a little while.) thank you so much for your supportlolz. im also glad skits is happy and i tried to writekayla after me (but i think prudence is more like me in this chapter)so im glad you like her...or like skits thinking about her lolz! i sent you an emaily thing but im not sure it went threw cause it was all weirdo and my comp shut down halfway through the sending process so ya...anyway it just said gracias for the kind words and how much i love your story (which i am planning to live reveiw right after this!).in short, gracias.

Marbles n' Mush: hehe im glad you likey! i love fics i can relate too 2! i hate all those gossip girls books cause only like 5 of every school can relate to them(not including me)! im really glad you can relate cause now i nkow that there are other people 'like me' out there (in short, really cool and awesome lolz haha.) hehe everytime i read your reveiw i blush lolz.

Madmbutterfly: yay! lolz im glad i didnt disappoint you or bore you to death, that whole dealio. i hope this chappie wont suck balls.

R/R!


	14. Friend Of the Devil xxx Grateful Dead

hyo dudes! sry it took me so long to update but i have really good exscuses that have nothing to do with my social life (haha thats a first). yaaa so this chappie was orginally really giganrtically hugely long like 30 pages. so i figuered i'd spare you the huge read and brake it up into two chappies cause it was seriously HUGE! so good news the next one will be up really really soon

wait do you guyses like long chappies over short? i asked molly and she likes short but shes like a ravidreader andcan read at like 100 words a second. i like alot of shorts but idk what everyone else likes...

DAILY EXSCUSES:

I dont have any! this is a magic moment! hehe

* * *

I could feel Sheena's warm thigh pressed against mine as we sat on my great emerald sofa in my living room, watching Jonathan Reese Myers fuck Ewen McGregor. I could feel the tension in her body slowly wane as the awkwardness of the movie and its many guy on guy make out scenes began to diminish and both of us got used to…um the uniqueness of the film. 

Suddenly Sheena chuckled loudly and squinted her eyes at the movie then un-squinted them. She squinted them again then moved forward a bit on the couch, moved back a bit and cocked her head to one side. I watched her in indifference as she continued to squint and un-squint her peepers.

Finally she sat back on the couch once more, her shoulder brushing against mine and announced loudly "oh man! Wow he looks a ton like Kurt Cobain!"

She turned towards me and smiled broadly before prompting a "well he does, doesn't he?"

I would have answered 'no' had she given me enough time to speak.

She went on "with the hair, and the eyes, and the sexiness…ya know…?" her voice trailed off on this last sentence and I gave her a look of 'what the hell are you talking about'…except a lot less frank.

I had learned two mayor things about Sheena since I had met her last week; she had a different personality for every day and she also possessed a weird obsession with Kurt Cobain. The really funny thing is I didn't realize this obsession until like our third day together; I just thought it was a coincidence that every single conversation some how ended up tangled in his roots or directly about him. Cause seriously, He would somehow come up in every other discussion! Then again I shouldn't be talking cause my whole black thing came up a lot too but still…my obsession isn't a person…at least I think its not.

Another funny thing about it is, I didn't mind. For a while Kayla was obsessed with Sid Vicious and let me tell you that pissed the hell out of me. Not only was he a fucking poser and couldn't play base for shit, he was a drugged up fucker who killed his whore-ish girlfriend for kicks. Kurt Cobain wasn't much better -drugged up expressionist who married a whore-ish wife and killed himself to get away from her- but he sure as hell wasn't a poser. Sheena likin…obsessing over him seemed almost taboo…like she had found something in him we all had missed. I kinda envied her for having found such a person…like the physiologic connection she was convinced both she and Kurt possessed. I mean, I had my blackness…but it wasn't stable or reliable or anything like that. From blackness comes everything, from blackness comes nothing. There was nothing to stand on, nothing solid.

As these revelations came upon me late last Thursday, I began to seek out my own messiah. I couldn't find one. Finally after much coaxing, the next day Sheena had advised me to share Kurt Cobain with her. I tried though it didn't feel right. The skin didn't fit. But I didn't tell that to Sheena.

The day before she had convinced Tommy, my guitar teacher, to teach both of us all of _MTV unplugged; Nirvana _and he had willingly obliged, dumbfounded by her knowledge of music and goggle-eyed by her boobs and ass.

Later that night he had called me and asked for her number and if I thought she would 'do it like their friends' with him. I told him she already had a boyfriend and they were going steady; Tommy's the type of dude who would actually call her and ask her to have sex with him.

I could hear him mutter a couple 'oh, my fuckin' luck''s on the other end of the line as his hopes stooped, "hey, ask her anyway though…and phrase it like that too, the 'do it like we're friends' line."

I knew what he was talking about but Sheena wouldn't.

"Sorry man, I'm pretty sure she's never seen Velvet Goldmine."

I could here his spirits rise on the other end, "you lucky fuck! Man, tarts get really turned on by that movie. Fuck, watch it with her, all right?"

So naturally, there I was, watching Velvet Goldmine with Sheena by my side.

I could tell she was liking it but I wouldn't go as far as saying it turned her on. It was a good movie with good music and a good cast. The sexual elements were enlightening and modest, only adding to the plot of the story instead of becoming something of their very own like in Girl Next Door and all those other saintly movies that give small assholes wet dreams every night.

"Well I think he looks like him. Oh, such angst holds he, such tortures emit from his derisory soul! Oh! What a melancholy existence is he! Oh!"

"And his partner, yes, that Brian Slade character. What can be said for him! Is he not just as abused as the former of which you have praised?"

"I have praised nothing!" Sheena dismissed with a sharp nod of her head, "nor has my approval been sent out towards this Kurt Cobain impersonator…"

"Ah, ah, ah" I protested, "the latter has yet to be proved! Did you not hear me object to your claim on the Kurt Cobain resemblance?"

"But it is spoken for, am I correct?"

"Aye you are…" I trailed off, not sure of how to keep the conversation going.

Sheena had out intelected me…I mean it was nothing new…and she hadn't even out intelected me, she had merely out socialized me…again nothing new.

We held these little intellectual battles quite often, breaking our punk dialect and going on in Middle English. They were usually the result of hearing a fun sophisticated word or Sheena just being in a 'lousy mood' (which she was in a lot, I might add.)

I didn't mind. It was sort of fun actually…made me feel smart and shit…better then spot and cowboy and those fuckers. That was what I kept telling my self at least, that I'm smarter than the grand fuck masters. I'm not. I know I'm not. I know a tart who is smarter then them, that's true. But as for me, I'm just good at playing along.

Finally I came up with a spark of an idea to ignite our dwindling conversation.

"I suppose, my fair lady gay, we could conclude this quarrel with the statement that you are a sucker for the tortured souls?"

A rush of pride overcame me as I realized what I had just said. That I had been so bold as to re-kindle an exchange and propose such an idea at that!

Sheena smiled coquettishly.

"Are you suggesting I am a sucker for you? Or! Or, or, or that you want me to suck your balls?" she prompted amiably, stretching her legs out on my lap and leaning back against the jade throw pillows that sat on the sofa's arm.

Fuck, I was stuck and very much wishing I could take back that suggestion I had been so fucking proud of 5 seconds ago; how the hell was I supposed to answer both of those questions without either insulting Sheena or coming across as the pervert I am?

Although Sheena really wasn't good with people -and she had not been lying when she had told me this on our second day in starbucks- she seemed to sense my nervous state and continued in her rebuttal against my measly attempt to flirt with her.

"For both ideas are utterly absurd! I'd be laughed at and mocked if the other swans heard."

"Hey doll face, you're no swan. Don't flatter yourself."

Yet again seconds after saying this, I wished for the words to spring back into my mouth. Thankfully Sheena took no offense.

"Ah, tell it to the ass!"

She flipped over onto her belly and shook her butt a bit, slapping it as she did so before turning back around and hiding it from view. She had on the usual school uniform, which, if it hadn't reminded me of some Coach or Prada product, I would have liked (it ended a bit higher then her knee and I was constantly getting glimpses of her scrumptious upper thigh.)

"Eh, you're distracting my movie watching enjoyment with that thing of yours!" I reached under her and squeezed her ass playfully.

What was a movie to Sheena's lovely ass! Especially when this particular movie increased the awkwardness that our relationship already possessed by a ca-jillion; we had know each other for a week and here she was lying on top of me…well sorta. It was weird though… that…you know…I had full ass privileges already and every time I thought about it, it made me feel as if I were doing something I shouldn't be. But of course you gotta take into account both of our personalities. I mean, Shit, this is Sheena we're talking about, anything can happen…like seriously anything. Though I can't give her all the credit. It's also both of our 'situations' and the fact that we had seen each other everyday after school since last Tuesday. Not to mention she had a knack for creating awkward situations and then weaseling her way out of them immediately after their creation, leaving me there to pine away in embarrassment.

"Sorry, sorry. I don't know what came over me," she stated calmly in a Canadian/Vermonter accent that she could actually pull off fairly well.

"Well you should be," I muttered cynically before sending a flirtatious smile over to her, my eyes glinting with mischief.

She drew her eyes away from the TV and glanced over at my facial expression, which much have looked pretty fucking ridicules for she sniggered affably.

"You're distracting me!" she cried out before returning both the smirk and the glint.

My mum didn't know about Sheena. No one knew about Sheena for that matter…besides Tommy at least. This had worried me some the first couple days…it was possible I was just dreaming her up; I mean I had done it before. It wasn't even like Tommy was any secure evidence to her existence cause he was so fucking high half the time I saw him, if you told him big foot was gonna sit in on a lesson he would have muttered an ok and later ask for his autograph.

Over come by either my insanity for doubting her existence or my insanity for dreaming it up, I asked Sheena about it when we met that Sunday, not even caring how fucked up I must sound.

"That's a good question," she pondered, bringing her hand up to the light as if to test her own density, "I've been wondering that for a while now my self."

I nodded attentively.

"Hmmm…" she went on, bringing her hand back into her lap, "oooh! I know, what's something I wouldn't be able to do if I was only in your mind."

"If you were in my mind you'd say yes if I asked you for a blowjob…" I probed hopefully though the expression on Sheena's face held no assurance.

"No, Skittery I will not give you a blow job. And my alter ego, be she in your mind or real, wont either…in case you were wondering."

"Oh shucks," I sighed pretending to be deeply disappointed.

I was deeply disappointed.

"Wait but that doesn't answer my question then. Cause if neither of you will then wait…what I'm confused noooo!" I cried melodramatically.

"So am I? Hmmmm…well I don't care if I'm real or not, do you?" before I could answer her question she answered it for me, "And you don't care then what does it matter!" she proclaimed, downing the last of her beer and throwing the empty paper cup at her wall where it lay neatly on top of a pile of clothes.

I actually did care if she was real or not cause it would certainly say something about my mind, but I didn't protest to her conclusion on this vital matter. I would soon be able to convince my self that I didn't care any who so whatever. That black veil was always close by…if it really became a problem…the veil would go up…simple as that.

Sadly, this method of passiveness was no guarantee and lasted for about a day or two before giving way to the will of my fucked up mind.

Another downer was that school always seemed to be the Bermuda triangle in terms of my passiveness. In school my veil would go all wiry and it seemed the longer I stayed, the less it wanted to hide me. The less hidden I was, the more unhappy I became.

I mean, sure the first day of a barren social life had been great (I guess) but the second day was shittier, and the next day was even more shitty and the day after that incredibly shitty.

The cuts on my arms began to increase and I abandoned my massacred upper limbs and moved on to my legs and ankles. Everyday, the razor would somehow appear in my hand and I would cut… again…and again…and again. I couldn't help it! It just over powered me…once I cut on one ankle I needed to fell the lovable pain on my other. And I would abide! I would let it rule me! Just like everyone else did in school, the pain became my master.

Ya see, when I had killed all relations in lab I hadn't realized that I had _completely_ separated myself from the community and although these were my initial intentions, I didn't want it any more. Without friends its like you don't exist and everyone has free rights to walk all over you. And walk all over me they did! To the popular pricks, I wasn't entwined in the lab social scene so what was the point of being nice to me. It wasn't gonna them any more popular, was it? What would they get out of it? Nothing. And to everyone else I was like a meal ticket. Take all your anger and stress out on skits or kick around his backpack after class. To them it was like I was just a walking corpse; I was at their disposal. Cause hell I wasn't a person (or else I would have friends), so they could fucking soak me and it wouldn't matter! I wasn't even like I was by like I had originally wanted…cause every time I was alone I could feel people's eyes following me every fucking where I went. And although these eyes may contradict with me being dead, they don't. Cause the eyes did nothing. They would watch me come and go, making me feel self conscious even though no one really cared about whether I was lonely or not. I was surrounded by self-created loneliness.

And if I hadn't realized this the second day of my certified antisocial life, I had sure as hell reached this conclusion by the next. It was official; at school I had become the invisible man and however many times I tired to shove this realization of my cellophane like state under the black veil, it never fit.

And then I would get really depressed. Depressed like I had never been before… just a deep, dank hole of depression where I was forced to search madly in the dark for something solid. I felt as if I were on the monkey bars and my fingers were slowly starting to slip. I kept reassuring myself that the next hour would be better, after school things would be better, today's lunch period would be better but it never was and thus all I could do was watch helplessly as figures moved in slow motion around me and I held on by a pinky to what I knew would hold. Namely Sheena.

My mum also didn't know that I had severed my connections with the fuckers, especially Kayla whom she had been very fond of.

Two years ago she had cried when I told her that we had broken up. The fact that I hadn't talked to her in over a week wouldn't make her too happy. When we did brake up, she had called Kayla's mum and they had wailed together about how fucked up me and Kayla were for dumping each other. I guess our relationship had somehow helped my mum put behind her and my dad's relationship or something like that. Proof that love can be trusted and not all lovers leave each other 'in the Pines' as states the Lead Belly song.

Our breaking it off had been pretty mutual (between me and Kayla that is) which is ironic since I still really don't know what went down at all. I really dunno; something with commitments and shit. I had just nodded to everything she had said, agreeing with only half my heart but not knowing it at the time. She had said we were both jealous people with addictive personalities, which meant we both liked drugs and sex a bit more then we should have. I had nodded yet again, sub-consciously convincing myself that I agreed entirely. I mean, fuck she was right and I did agree with her… our personalities were so similar that it was dangerous and it was also true that we were both jealous.

Later I realized that these things didn't really matter all that much and all I really cared about was Kayla. Its funny how words can trick you and your emotions into doing something that you really don't want to do. Everything she was saying was correct and I agreed with but that didn't mean I agreed with her decision to end our relationship. So I had sat there nodding, not able or willing to deny anything that was coming out of her mouth. Only after did I realize that _we_ were over and somehow we had become fuck buddies.

My shrink knew about my social situation. Somehow he always asked the right questions that actually made me want to spill my guts while my mum seemed to always prod the damn sore spots, which caused me to recoil into my blackness once more.

She had, in fact, called my shrink that fateful morning after my 'black attack'- her name for whatever the fuck had happened- and while he approached my blackness with an understanding tone, my mum stated flat out the next night that if I ever dyed my hair again she would shave it all off when I was sleeping.

I had laughed at her before telling her to go fuck herself.

Of course this didn't go over well and I was then denied my Walkman for a week.

How can she fucking take away my Walkman! It's like my goddamn life support during high school hell! How dare she fucking take it away! Of course I can't complain that much cause Tommy had lent me his the next day and it cost bout 50$ more then mine so…fuck mum for that.

My shrink didn't know about the cuts though. I mean yeah, I had cut before but no one but Kayla knew about it and I wasn't about to go telling him (my shrink that is) bout my 'condition'. What the fuck am I talking about! Cutting's not a goddamn condition it's a state of mind. I had considered telling him cause I was starting to get a little worried about the whole thing… I kinda chickened out when the time came. I dunno…maybe I just wont tell him at all…

* * *

haha wasnt that horribly terrifying! its actually quite short now that its in two. hmmm... well R/R as always and please tell me your side on the whole short long chappie deal. 

Oh yeah to all who were confused, the last chappie was in prudences perspective (sorta late lolz). i need to update that chappie with that info in there cause ya, it was confusing.

Ozmandius(agh im not gonna bother looking how to spell that lolz): hehe hyo doody! hehe i heart you too! ummmm hmmmm oooh did you read that thing i sent you the newsies advice thing! it was so funny hehe! this is pointless cause im gonna be seeing you manana.hehe im watching europtrip right now (sigh cooper is so hott!)

marbles & mush: hehe im glad you can relate hehe! that means i can relate with you too cause i relate well...yeah haha! oooh hehe your reveiw made me all giddy inside. hehe! oooh it makes me happy just thinking that someone out there is like paint it black (which is alot of my high school lolz)

madamebutterfly: yaaa it was prudence sry para la confusion hehe. imk glad you you likey haha!

rustie: awwww your reveiws always make me so happy! smiles gleefully ya im a bit hard on my self but w/e lolz i need a confidence booster like a caffeen booster but cofidence style lolz. hehe i like pru alot to, shes really real i guess shes based off like a certain person and not alot of people. haha yaa idk what im gonna do with jack, he's such a player (hehe). id like to think someone like jack would like someone like pru but idk lolz. OOOOOOHHH could we kick corrina and maggie down the stairs together hehe! that would be ultra satifying right now! ooooh im glad you like it ! and your reveiws make me feel so bubly inside! hehe

R/R!


	15. Rock N' Roll Suicide xxx David Bowie

hyo dudes! see i told you it wouldnt take so long! hehe though it did take a while when you account for the fact that it was already written when i posted the last chappie hehe. but awell, ive had my fair share of people problems this week so thats my exscuse.

haha so anyway (hehe sry im a giggly mood), the usual read and review type thing. but really review! please, pleasy pleasy! but even if you decide you want to be an insubordinate cure, enjoy nonethless (i love that word (nonetheless))

* * *

Sheena suddenly looked up at the clock on the VCR.

"Oh man! Get some candles, quick!"

I didn't move, though my eyes hesitantly darted up from the movie to stare into her fretful ones.

Damn it, I couldn't tell if she was being honest or playing a game. Usually when she's playing around, a flicker of a smile goes through her expressions, as though just thinking about the trick she's about to pull cracks her up. There was no smile or flicker of one.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice a bit more monotoned then I had intended.

My eyes wandered back to the moving images on the screen. Seconds later, I realized my rudeness and hoped I hadn't come across as the submissive freak I truly am. If I had, she didn't take any notice.

"Jeeze fuckin' Louise, skits, get off your ass! Candles pronto!" she ordered, hopping up off the couch and quickly shutting off the TV.

As if the power button operated me as well, I reluctantly went into action.

"Hey! Whatever you're gonna do wid them, do it on the fire escape, ok? The last fuckin' thing I need is for my mum to think I smoked pot in her house," I warned Sheena as I passed over some of our Shabbat candlesticks and 3-mismatched candlestick holders.

"Don' worry bout it," she retorted in a mockingly 'Godfather'-esc type accent.

I followed Sheena into my room, noting her brisk walk, her skirt flying up with every swift swing of her heavenly hips. I plodded along at her heels, hoping she wouldn't do anything irreversible to my house like lighting it on fire or something like that.

"What the fuck do you need these for any who?"

She didn't answer.

"You need a lighter?"

"Skittery could I please have a lighter?" she repeated in a superfluous voice, as if I were trying to teach her manners. She made an attempt at a cute face that didn't end up all looking all that cute (cute faces never look how they're supposed to.)

Digging in my pockets I handed over my lighter and watched in awe as she scrambled to open the fire escape. Finally, with much assistance from yours truly, it was open, a cold draft of air calmly blowing in to my tepid room.

"I'm not going out there, it's fucking freezing!"

Shivers were going up and down my spine and my bare feet had already begun to go numb.

"I think not! And if you really can't handle the heat…haha chill," she corrected herself, easing her body through the window and onto the fire escape, "put on a coat. This is more important then your insubordinate needs such as warmth and motion in your hands and fingers!"

She gave a startling belly laugh, placing the candles on the thin railing separating us from a 6-story drop.

I obeyed…of course.

After a couple minutes of digging through a pile of clothes, I was able to find a trench coat me and blink had found on the street one day after school, and hesitantly put it on.

Technically we shared it, blink and me, but he hadn't asked me about it in months so figured he didn't want it anymore.

Even still, I felt weird putting it on… like he would come out from somewhere and…I dunno…do something I guess. Aw fuck, I wasn't even sure what I was scared of… I guess it was only we both liked the jacket which then creates this connection. Hell, just putting it on made me feel like I was giving in to him and somewhere he was smiling at me. Which is fucking bad of course. Smiling happy and the last thing I want is for that fucker to be happy.

As I fumbled with this insecurity, Sheena came back inside and was quizzically staring at my stereo as if her glare would somehow produce sound from it.

Of course this wasn't working.

"Hey skits, how do you turn on this here contraption of yours?" she finally voiced in a southern accent, mockingly banging the sides of the great black box like monkeys do on TV.

"Um, I'm pretty sure there is a switch that says on." I replied in an over-the-top sarcastic tone.

I probably sounded like an ass but if I did, neither of us took notice.

Again and again I kept getting the feeling that I was pleasing blink. It wouldn't go away. It was like his bony hand was prodding away at my thoughts and twirling them as if he owned them. My head started to pound and I broke out into a light sweat. I was doing what he wanted me to. I was associating with my past! This is what he wanted; to show me I hadn't moved on and I still emotionally relied on him and the others. Like…like I couldn't move on from them…and I still kept all the memories because…cause unlike them I didn't have a life anymore. My memories of them were my life. But that wasn't true! No way in hell was that fucking true. Sheena was there. I had Sheena.

I wanted to scream, I did scream though nothing came from my mouth. He was still watching me… he was watching me… from…from somewhere.

I began to turn madly, searching for blink…for him to jump out and tell me that I'm a fucking poser or to laugh at me and my blackness.

"Hey skits…you all rightie there?"

I stopped spinning, feeling incredibly nauseas and watched as the room slowly unfolded once more. Sheena had spoken but I didn't have an answer. Nodding hesitantly, I peeled off the jacket and tossed it through the open window, planning to kick it down the steps once we got out there.

Sheena eyed me. "Its good to see someone in this dreary generation understands the magnificence of twirling!" she proclaimed melodramatically before lowering her voice to a whisper "though remember use it for good…not evil."

I smiled broadly, glad she hadn't further questioned my panic attack. Was that what it was? I once had a pen pal in 7th grade who used to get panic attacks but him being from _espana_, I never really knew what the fuck he was saying. A shiver went through my body as I considered there actually being something wrong with me. It scared me a lot… like it sincerely scared me.

I clawed for the black veil and it came easily, warm and heavy and comforting…there was nothing wrong with me. I'm a teen, I'll be back on my feet again…I was just undergoing a dire emotional trauma. It's probably the fucking norm to feel… insecure…times a million.

Running my hands through my hair I sauntered over to Sheena, now tapping the boom box gently with her black finger nails- I had convinced her to color them black after the non-existent, all-in-my-head conversation- though still tracing her eyes over every button sported by the box.

Flipping up a switch on the side of the box, Generation X came to life, screeching and howling and sending an electric vibe soaring about the room. The ambiance lingered even after Sheena had gingerly replaced the CD with a mix marked 'soundtrack to the day among days'.

"Gracias, por favor" she exclaimed, glancing up at the black clock above my bed.

The tune to 'Right On Time' slowly began to emit from her lips.

I smiled at her still fumbling with the boom box, her skirt hitched up on her thighs revealing some very sexy legs decked out in white fishnets over black tights. She had on a hunting hat over her red and purple braids which she had been wearing since I had seen her earlier that morning. I liked the hat a lot; it sorta reminded me of one my dad used to have. Probably in storage now, along with his other stuff. Seeing Sheena wearing something like it made me consider hauling it out of our vault downstairs.

She continued to press buttons until I figured she didn't know where the play button was either. I bent down next to her and pressed a giant blue button next to her hand, hearing the small mechanical clicks of the boom box that always gave me the sinking feeling that it was destroying my CD.

I actually called them up once, Sony, asked if the shitty sounds my stereo was making meant it was fucked up…the girl on the other end didn't know so I hung up.

Sheena gave me a pat on the leg for a thanks and quickly rushed over to the front of the room. An orange coat was thrust into my face.

"You don't like coats very much, do you?" she asked dismally, glancing about the room and its many piles of Black clothes.

In my book, jackets or coats or whatever were the same thing as sweatshirts so I never bothered with them.

"Nah. But I'm warning you, this orange could be my doom!" I pronounced, shaking a fist full of carroty sleeve at her.

She gave me a grim grin as 'Pennyroyal Tea' began to crawl out of the stereo, sending weird lofty vibrations through my body.

"Hey, hey, hey! Don't you be underestimating the magic of orange! I'm telling ya, the color works wonders! Now out, out the window. C'mon lil' doggie."

Taking my arm she dragged me away from the stereo, orange ball of cloth in hand, and led me out on to the fire escape.

I don't like being out on fire escapes. Running down them is fine or walking around on them, but just sitting there… it made me nervous. There's a sure death right there in front of you. Just swing your legs over the side and you're gone. Twelve flights and then… squish. No emotional block either. I'm so fucking depressed half the time…I dunno…it scares me. Like what if…what if I just cant take it…what if it just…I'm in over my head. Sitting out there…well it made me skittery! Hell, that's why I'm called Skittery…not cause of fire escapes but cause of my inexplicable paranoia. Well inexplicable to them at least. I sure as hell know why I get so fucking anxious over everything.

Sitting there with Sheena I wasn't so worried. I knew if I wanted to she wouldn't stop me and usually whenever anyone tries to stop me it only makes me want to do it more…in spite of them and shit.

A steady gust blew east from the Hudson and I was damn glad Sheena had given me her disgusting orange piece of cloth. Wrapping it around my billowy black figure I felt warmer just knowing it kept her warm everyday.

Out of the corner of my eye, a fiery ball appeared on the railing and it took me a moment to realize it was one of the candles.

I didn't want to jump off the fire escape. Not now. It didn't seem worth it…ya know…to fuck myself up while I was enjoying myself. It would be pretty fucking pathetic actually. Cause really…you never know when things might improve. Maybe I'm just suffering from karma or reverse karma or something and things will get better soon. But then again that's just hope speaking. Like hope that Sheena might amount…hell I dunno even know what to. She might become some sort of goddamn messiah for me… like a friendly calling for losers.

Aw shit, Fuck hope. What has faith ever given me but oodles of disappointment and a bunch of shit for brains.

I felt a tug on the extremely girly jacket and whirled around to find Sheena sitting, her legs dangling over the sides of the escape.

"Pop a squat."

And I did, sitting next to her on the metal base, pressing my face into the railing. The cool metal felt good on my cheeks and made me feel animate for the first time in days.

"So what's this?" I asked finally as 'Pennyroyal Tea' softly faded into 'Jesus Doesn't Want Me For A Sunbeam.'

Using her fore fingers, Sheena began to conduct the song to an invisible orchestra set out before her.

"It's his death day." She managed to reply between hums.

I nodded understandably, "hey, so what is your dealio with Kurt Cobain, any who?"

I hoped I hadn't probed a wrong nerve or anything like that. I mean he was her like fictional lover and all. What the fuck am I saying? Hell, she was fucking obsessed with him. Some people get iffy about their obsessions, I dunno.

Her eyes flashed eagerly and a quirky smile set about her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked tentatively in the most normal voice I had ever heard her use.

"I dunno, like…why are you so in love with him and all?"

Shit, I hadn't meant to sound so obnoxious. Fuck, I sounded like Cowboy, rude and careless and shit! Oh man, I needed to fix it. But I couldn't say anything else cause that would be driving it home.

Sheena hadn't seemed to notice my tone and instead looked incredibly deep in thought, like Cowboy had last Monday during science. Her face joined mine against the railing, her eyes scrutinizing the metal bars next to her forehead.

"I dunno…" she trailed off in a hollow like voice.

She didn't answer for a few moments, her eyes now diverged from the bars and staring unseeingly at some point between my head and the building next to us. I was starting to get worried she was one of those people who get off on their own mental tangents.

My dad used to that all the time. You'd ask him a question and he'd start out like he really knew his shit but suddenly an 'umm' would appear. All conversation was stopped and his eyes wandered away from your own. Unless you were able to pry him off that 'umm' you'd be left with a middle-aged man humming the same syllable, staring off into space. When I was really little I would get annoyed with him. But as I got older I became jealous. What was he thinking about that required so much goddamn thought that he could even finish a response? If it was that important that he couldn't wait a couple minutes to answer, why wasn't he telling me! I had always heard my mum bragging about how my dad was a philosopher to all her female friends but at the time I had no fucking clue what that meant. I finally decided it was some one who was paid to have imaginary friends and that's why my dad never answered my questions. He was always working.

I ran my hand through my hair frustratingly, trying to draw back Sheena's attention. It didn't work.

"Sheena," I finally whispered loudly; this wasn't like the other small-talk questions I asked girls. I really wanted to know why she was so fucking obsessed with Kurt cobain?

She giggled loudly and pressed her face harder against the bars, turning away from me and the spot next to my head.

"It just started one day when I saw his picture," she began finally "and ya, he was fucking gorgeous but I dunno… he looked like… like…I dunno… he knew me or something… he looked like me."

She cocked her head to one side and squinted her eyes at the darkness. I nudged her lightly in the arm. I wanted her to go on… I wanted to know about what she had with him cause I wanted it too. Not with him but…the ability to have someone like him, some messiah to follow and keep me alive.

"Everything that I was feeling…everything I was called in school and every friend I didn't have…well he didn't have that friend either…we were the same person… ya know… like we were both made from the same shit. And the more I found out about him the more I was… I dunno… seduced. Fuck, he was like a drug or something…I just couldn't tare myself away. I kept finding these new levels of him. A level of his depression. Level of his antisocialness…all these things I didn't know about him. And the more I learned the more knowledge I wanted. So I kept reading interviews. Kept listening to more of his basement tapes…ya know the ones with the real good stuff on them. His music was always in my head whenever some rich ho called me a dyke. During gym, while I was doing those goddamn sit-ups and the bitch next to me was laughing at me cause I couldn't do them, he was up there next to the pipes smiling and telling me it was alright. He followed me around."

Suddenly she blushed which made me blush too. Straightening her head and unsquinting her eyes she let out a burst of words "aghh! I told you I'm a weirdo. I see dead people! And I'm not just acting like Hailey Joel Osmond."

I pretended to think for a minute, making a sour expression as if pondering something hard.

"Well, do you care if you're a weirdo?" I asked inquisitively.

She shook her hatted head vigorously "actually I'm quite proud of my insane state of mind."

"And I don't care if you're a weirdo. Kurt Cobain doesn't care if you're a weirdo either. So, onward, I say! Carry on in your story!"

Sheena giggled again.

"As you wish it!" she stated promptly before lying back on the fire escape, looking over at me to do the same. Taking the hint I laid myself down next to her, watching the smile on her face grow even wider (if at all possible.)

"Ahem," she cleared her voice "so anyway my parental units began to get worried seeing as I didn't have any friends and all I ever talked about was nirvana. My motherly unit said she would get me a shrink but…it never happen. My fatherly unit said he would find me some work buddy of his who had a kid I could play with but that never happened either. Ya… the closest they have gotten to 'dealing with my situation' was getting me a job when I was 14. But Kurt was always there. He was my calling... like a mental calling. And I was his follower. All I ever did was quote him… I mean he had an answer to everything so why not? Fuck, I went around for months telling people who asked me about my antisocialness that 'friends are just enemies you haven't met.' Everything he said…it felt like…like he was saying it directly to me kinda."

She stopped and it was like I had stopped breathing. The air was stale and the sky was dull. I felt like all I could do was wane in her words. It felt like the night was waning in her words.

"Sheena?" I said finally after a moment of silence that surprisingly wasn't at all awkward.

"Mmhmm?" she asked jadedly, the first time I had ever heard her voice sound genuinely tired.

Both of our eyes were trained up at the monotonous, dark sky.

"If you were gonna kill your self, how would you do it?" I waited nervously for her to answer.

There is one standing rule that every teenager knows; how ever outgoing you are, approach suicide with caution. It's a worldwide rule. Punks and preps alike, you gotta assess the person before asking the questions.

"I would slit my wrists," she replied dully, once again her tone weirdly normal. Ordinarily normal.

From that moment on I knew Sheena was depressed…like clinically depressed. If she had said taking pills or shooting herself it wouldn't have been the same; those responses don't involve pain. Slitting your wrist was a quenching pain. I mean, I could kinda tell before hand too –hell, if I was the girl's only friend she had to be a bit unhappy- but this confirmed it.

So, I decided to take the plunge, "have you ever tried?"

She smiled pleasantly up at the sky, " 'If you die you're completely happy and your soul somewhere lives on. I'm not afraid of dying. Total peace after death, becoming someone else is the best hope I've got.'"

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eeeeeew that was a bad chappie wasnt it. so depressing (sigh). aw well. next chappie will be up eventually though i cant garentee (although my muse and his preppy girlfriend are no longer quite as zealous over each other as they used to be, my motivation is dying.) but anyway, REVIEW! 


	16. Love Reign O'er Me xxx The Who

Sorry guyes this cchappie took while. Idk why it did actually but w/e. oh yeah the spelling is probably all fucked porque late last spellcheck went on strike and decided it didnt feel like checking my thing.

oh yeah i have been updating also earlier chappies and although most only under went minor chnages, the intro thing and chappie 1 have alot so yeah...in case you want to check it out haha (you probably dont but w/e)

excuses? hmmmmmmmof course ahem...social issues and thenpeople keep forcing books on me to read like my mama so yeah...thats been tying me down.

i dont feel like boring you with any other excuses (i just woke so i dont think any of this makes sense but haha w/e)

so anyway (haha ordinary people moment sigh timothy hutton!) ummmmm what was i gonna say...oh yes...long chappie. could not have been made possible without rusties help (not a shoutout) and enjoy haha (family guy moment now too)

* * *

I was gonna kiss Sheena. It was that simple. That's what I was gonna do. It was decided. I was gonna kiss Sheena.

Before midnight, I was gonna kiss her.

I was fucking sick and tired of having all those goddamn wet dreams about her cause although they were pleasant, it was hell waking up and realizing we were still only friends. Shit what am I talking about; it was fucking torture! I mean, seriously man! I had this fucking gorgeous girl who was basically at my disposal due to her depression and I hadn't even attempted to make out with her! And I really liked her at that! Really liked her. Fuck what am I saying, I was whole hoggedly lovesick. I couldn't listen to Nirvana without thinking about her constantly. The unplugged version of Plateau… that song made me want her so bad you have no idea, especially when Cobain's voice gets all raunchy in the chorus… oh man I wanted her! I needed her! It was torture, man. FUCKING TORTURE!

And I was fucking sick of it!

So I was gonna kiss her. I wanted her and the only way I could get her was to make it official by kissing her.

I was going to kiss Sheena.

I came to this fucking fantastic conclusion late one night when I was neither high nor drunk and immediately began scheming. I knew that Friday I was sleeping over at her house (or mush's house to my mom) so that was a sure bet.

Friday it was.

Her mum had agreed to let me stay the night after Sheena had promised we wouldn't _do_ anything. I don't think she really cared whether or not we did anything. I think she was just glad Sheena had a friend.

This would be my 1st time sleeping over at her house, my 8th time at her house and my 2nd time meeting her family.

Her family was incredibly stereotypical. Like seriously stereotypical. Her mother claimed to be a stay-at-home mom though made a living out of baking and cleaning nonetheless. Her brother was a complete Manhattan jock, which means he majored in soccer instead of football like normal jocks. Sheena said he had a girl for everyday of the week.

"That's fucking sick man, the dude's only 13!" I had remarked upon hearing this. It _was_ sick! Ya, I had Kayla when I was 13 but we hadn't fucked yet! That came way later. And it was Kayla anyway, man, our group's 'prude'! Hell, I was still a virgin in 8th grade. He was fucking a girl a day!

"What can I say," She had responded casually "the boys a born pimp."

I had never met Sheena's dad. Her family being the stereotypical family meant he was always at work. I mean…He was an asskissing lawyer after all or as Sheena called him, 'blegh in the form of a human.' Complete authority shithead whom an anarchist would have out any day.

"Fuck, you cant even put on the whole SLC punk 'you can do more damage in the system than out' lawyer outlook cause he doesn't fuck with the system" Sheena had complained to me last Tuesday after getting off the phone with her dad (he needed her to fax him some papers) "cause he doesn't fuck with the system! He fixes it! He sends people to jail and he does justice! Well fuck justice! Cause it never pulls through and he's just to goddamn stupid to realize that! Fucking shithead father."

"Hey, you're just lucky you got one." I had muttered numbly but I don't think she had heard me. Probably good she didn't. We never talked about my dad and I wanted to keep it that way.

This dad rant in particular had been very momentous in our friendship, one, because it was one of the only times Sheena sounded sincerely one emotion instead fifty billion at once, and two, because it was the only time I had ever, ever, ever disagreed or even took on a different stance than her. She seemed to always have the same thoughts on things as I did so I never had to disagree.

But dads were different. We didn't agree on dads.

The only non-stereotypical one in Sheena's house was her 10-year-old sister. Her sister was absolutely crazy. Like I'm-not-even-joking insane. Not only was her sister the only non-droid in the family (although she claimed to be part wizard), she was also the only one I liked… besides Sheena of course.

So Friday it was. Friday I was gonna kiss Sheena.

Surprisingly, Friday didn't take too long getting its ass to the present. The fact that I was totally fucking nervous about the whole thing seemed to make time just speed right on up.

Which is funny. Funny that I was actually nervous and shit, that is. After Kayla I never worried myself much over girls. They kinda just came and went and I hooked up with them or took them to a movie. Sure I liked them for their boobs and sex but none of them stayed more then a week…or a night actually. And sometimes I liked them, sometimes I didn't. I usually didn't like them. Some made me completely nauseas actually. Prudence sorta made me nauseas. Though she was a goddamn superb kisser, I can say that much. Yeah…that definitely took away from the nausea.

I think it was just the girls that I was going for but for a while I thought I might me gay. I mean… I'm not… but I really considered it. Fuck, who doesn't doubt their sexual orientation at one time or another…cept for like Tommy or Cowboy who are both straight as an erection… but it freaked me out… my lack of interest in girls.

After a billion issues of Playboy and some fucked up 'experiments', I finally decided that it was in fact the girls I was going for and I did in fact still like chicks. But even after this revelation I found no spark in gals.

Kayla had ended the whole romance thing for me…so does that mean I considered Sheena romantic? Nah wait, no way in hell was she romantic. And no way in hell was she like Kayla either so yeah. But I guess to me… she was romantic. I mean, romance is subjective and she was sure as hell the ideal tart for me. She was weird and funny and hott and had big boobs and was super nice and a prep hater. She was perfect for my situation too ya know…not like other broads. My situation would turn off other chicks…but Sheena could relate…Sheena could connect and didn't care whether I had friends or not. To top it all off, I liked her a ton too and if there was a word for being between _like_ and _love_…well that's where I was…I was in loke. I dunno…I just got this funny feeling when I was with her…like all those people in the movies when they really, really like someone. She was to me as Kurt Cobain was to her; a helpful hott messiah. And yeah it was corny but it was Sheena so it couldn't be _that_ corny…I dunno. I dunno bout anything anymore.

Friday afternoon I met Sheena outside her school and was jumping out of my shoes even before we got to her house.

All last period I had been scheming/ romanticizing how it would go. We'd be watching a movie or something…a real romantic movie…and during one of the kiss scenes…oh yeah her head would be on my shoulder like it sometimes is when we're watching a movie…and the characters would be kissing and I'd look down at her and she'd look up at me and then we would mutually move in for the kill. Ya, I realize this scheme requires all the planets to be in line and the moon to be singing but shit…it could happen… if my life were a story written by some pathetic 14-year-old no-lifer.

"Hey Skits, why you so Skittery? We on some invisible fire escape or something?" Sheena greeted me exuberantly, as she skipped over to where I was standing by her school entry. I wasn't allowed inside the building being a boy and all so I usually met her outside the front gate.

I shrugged… as usual. I had given up on my shrugging diet and though I tried to refrain from committing the hell raising sin as much as possible, this question called for a shrug. I didn't think Sheena cared anyway.

The more I mulled this shrug over the worse I felt about it. I finally decided to give her a verbal answer too, "nah, I dunno. Had a run in with spot today."

Yeah, I had run in to him, but I saw the fucker everyday. And yeah he had flipped me off but he flipped me off everyday too.

"Ah I see. I give my condolences."

I nodded gravely, playing along with her small game of pretend, "such a loss of confidence. But... whatever, instant karma's gonna get him."

"You betcha. Hey I couldn't help but notice you didn't bring a toothbrush…or a change of socks…or anything else for that matter..." Sheena inquired with an over the top confused look on her face, glancing at my single shlumped schoolbag.

"Yah, I need to stop at mi casa first. Didn't feel like lugging my bag to school. Besides it wouldn't fit in my locker. Yah"

"Nice sentence variation."

"Thank you," I grinned at her.

Agh, nerves go away!

"Les go" Sheena proclaimed in a French accent, the only accent she couldn't really get away with.

I nodded solemnly and began to saunter through the courtyard and away from her personal hellhole.

My nerves were fucking suffocating me. I needed a bathroom pronto though I knew even equipped with one I wouldn't feel better. Agh why the fuck did the Athien rulers create nerves? What kinda goddamn purpose do they serve besides feeding those fucking butterflies that hang around your stomach! Seriously!

"Oooh I have an idea!" Sheena proclaimed as we passed by bundles of gray-ass girls crowded in tight packs of preppiness, lining the walk away from the courtyard.

A pair of cool eyes from each pack glanced us momentarily as we strolled by before growing bored with us loserish folk and tuning back into money. Fucking preps.

Suddenly an arm was around my waist. Before I knew it Sheena had put me in a girlfriend-hold. Short lesson on BF/GFing in modern day society. _The girlfriend-hold; an embrace, position or hold that is particular to two people going out, such as holding hands. Boyfriend-hold in its masculine form_. Two girlfriend-holds survive today- seeing as how fine the line is between fuck buddies and BF/Gfness- one of these being the arm around the waist.

She had me in a girlfriend hold.

Now normally I would take this in stride and put her in 1 of the 5 billion boyfriend holds. Only, it being Friday (A.K.A the day that I kiss Sheena) all I could do was blush and look around widely, hoping no one saw me blush, especially Sheena.

Oh, fucking hell.

Could she read my thoughts? I mean, there was a possibility that she was in my head after all. Maybe she could or just knew that I was gonna kiss her and was trying to make it easier by being intimate (as if she wasn't already.)

"Make like we're dating." She ordered through gritted teeth.

A mixture of relief and disappointment bubbled to life. She didn't know I was gonna kiss her. It was just another game. But I didn't mind games. And I sure as hell didn't mind Sheena's hand on my waist. My nervousness began to wane upon this realization. It was just a game. Even if I had no clue why the hell we were playing it, it was still just a game.

"Act natural! And not like a cow."

A cow? It wasn't like I was gonna question her or anything, but a cow?

"It's good you said that when you did. I was about to start mooing."

"Skittery, that is not natural dating," she cooed with a wide smile on her face. An unearthly unnatural smile. Fucking creepy actually.

Sheena never frowned. Only when she was scolding me. Usually she scolded me about stupid stuff like…like opening the window or getting up when we were having a…ahem…cuddle-fest as she liked to call it. Sometimes I wondered if she thought we were playing house and she was the mum. I mean…She did play a hell of a lot of games.

"Yes darling, but I see not motivation…"

"Hmmm… Imagine the disappointment of a million rich ass preps upon realizing that the geekiest, gawkiest most unliked girl in school is going out with the apple of their eye…"

I stopped walking abruptly and made a squinty-eyed face at Sheena who was seriously beaming like…like someone's who's just been potty trained.

"Huh?"

"Yeah… I heard them talking. They call you H.G.G.W.N.A. for Hot Goth Guy with Nice Ass. Clever ain't it?"

My eyes got even squintier, "if I was a Goth yes. But since I'm not a Goth, no. I find it creepy and stalkerish. But it sure does motivate me."

Now that she mentioned it, the preps who had been glancing us before did seem a bit obsessive with their glances. Hell, their heavily mascara-ed eyes were practically glued to our joint figure. Aw fuck! Revenge is mine!

I pondered a second before going into action; what was the most couple like thing that me and Kayla used to do… besides fuck each other (though I wouldn't mind doing that with Sheena.) I mean…we kissed all the time I guess… hell we were worse than cowboy and molly! Seriously like leeches! But this didn't help me at all and only made me think about what I was forcing myself to go through before midnight.

Agh god why couldn't she just kiss me and make it so much goddamn easier. I knew there was no way in hell that the Sheena I knew would kiss me before I did…cause she wouldn't…but I wish she would.

Hmmmmm…oooh me and Kayla used to always pat each others asses…well not _pat_ necessarily, but close enough.

"Sheena, laugh really obnoxiously loud after I finish talking…right now."

A belly laugh echoed forth from Sheena's…well belly cause it was a belly laugh.

I could feel the whore's eyes watching us, there mouths slightly agape. I smiled to myself picturing Rita somewhere in that crowd; mouth agape with the rest of the fuckers, right where she belonged.

And thus, with that in mind, my hand began its pilgrimage. Down Sheena's waist, around her hips until finally...dun dun-nun-ah…Sheena's ass. I heard a subliminal shudder echo about the courtyard as every prep-faced sluttified whore realized that their H.G.G.W.N.A. was going out with Sheena, the turbo freak.

Fuck yeah!

"How was that?" I asked Sheena's ear flirtatiously.

"Perfectly natural. And how was your end…well haha…to be stupid my end?"

"Simply scrumptious."

It was fucking awesome.

We began walking once more, passing 'Rita' who was entwined in a sea of blonde. I gave her image a malicious grin before sticking up my middle finger to the group.

Another subliminal shudder.

I blinked. Rita's figure was gone. Only now the sea of blonde looked completely aghast. Preppy aghast, all red in the face, arms crossed across their chest, whispering to one another since of course when one prep is aghast they all have to be aghast.

It's what they do. They force their emotions onto each other. If one's confused they're all confused, if one's crying they're all crying, if one's giddy they're all giddy. Actually it's kinda interesting. I wonder if you tortured one would they all feel the pain…wow what an incredibly systematic way of making them suffer! Seriously! I mean if we ever needed to wipe out the preps -and it can't be that far off- well there you go! Kill one they're all as good as dead.

I always get fucking unearthly nervous when my mom comes home from work. Just like I get nervous whenever she gets a phone call or checks her emails. Her contact with the human race in general gets me tense. I mean, hell I'm a naturally nervous guy-when I'm not on drugs- but when she comes home…it like the moment of truth…ya know…judgment day or really minutes in this case. The seconds tick by as her key jingles in the lock and I wait to find out if I did anything wrong today. Fuck, what am I talking about; I've always done something wrong. I'm part of generation fuck-up after all. If she _found out_ about something I've done wrong.

It scares the hell out' a me...just waiting to find out whether she uncovered some part of my life she wasn't supposed to. Hell, some days I haven't even done anything to serious but still my heart is fucking racing like a burning monkey.

In those jingling seconds I rack my brain for any loose ends, any beer bottles not thrown out, an ashtray not put away or emptied, lipstick still smeared on my cheek. Than I go through who I've talked to and who my mum might have talked to. Usually I was pretty thorough in my 'bad boy' clean up and I never talked to anyone but Sheena nowadays but still…no way in hell was my mum an idiot. When I was in middle school and still an amateur she could always smell the pot on me no matter how much Axe I sprayed. Fuck, my 'district attorney' instigator of a father knew less about my life than she, the heath insurance lady, did.

I mean, she used to get all kinds of crazy hunches. I had been walking around for a while hadn't I? We had gone to Tribecca? Were there any adults? Shit, of course their was no goddamn adult! We were smoking pot for god's sake! Might as well have dragged along the cops too. Nonetheless, I would tell her that Kayla's older sister had come with and her friend was smoking like a mad man so that's why I smelled like smoke. My mum bought that. After all, it was true; we had gone with Kayla's sister and her friend had been smoking. But who do you think supplied her with the ciggies, huh?

Of course there was no way for my mum find out anything else cause even if she did call Kayla's mum or spot's or anyone for that matter she would have gotten the same story. But that wasn't the point. The point was that that moment…that minute after the 'how was your day' shit...in a shrinks words, it was the epitome of my stress.

It's like going through the metal detector when you leave a store. You haven't stolen anything. You know you haven't stolen anything...but what if you did by accident or something? What if it slipped into your bag? What if the thing you bought last time started to ring up as being stolen? Do you still have the receipt with you? Are you where you're supposed to be in case they call your mum? It's the prospect that you might get in trouble. The knowledge that you're being judged, whether it's by a store detector or your mum, your being watched.

I was nervous about Sheena. My mum still didn't know about her and really there was no reason for me not to tell her. It was kinda pathetic actually; so what I had a new friend, I wasn't doing anything wrong? Sheena was safer then anyone else I hung out with so what's the biggie? So what I met her in a Starbucks! You met dad in a headshop!

But it wasn't just Sheena. It was the fact that I hadn't already told her. She would want to know why I hadn't told her about Sheena. Was Sheena not a safe person to hang out with and that's why? Were Sheena and me having sex? Does she give you drugs? Is she a drug dealer, Michael? Does she give to your friends too? Has she met your friends? It had grown into something larger. It wasn't just Sheena it was the fact I hadn't told my mum about her. That's what made me nervous.

Fucking parents. She can't expect me to tell her every goddamn thing that happens in my life! And fuck the honesty system! I mean, who the fuck actually runs on the honesty system besides...I don't even know... fucking Vermonters and mountain men and shit.

By the time we got to my house Sheena had to pee like a burning monkey.

Actually she decided she had to pee a block away from school and two blocks away from her school that was all she could talk about. Six blocks away from school I calmly told her that if she was only gonna talk about peeing she better do it in Spanish cause I was getting fucking tired of hearing the 'pee-pee song' and 'the toilet song' and the 'I gotta go to the bathroom song' (seriously she had a song for every occasion) over and over and over again. So for the rest of the way home—in the train station, on the train, at the bus stop, on the bus—all I heard from her was 'el cancion de urinal' and 'el cancion de bano' and 'el cancion de yo quiero ir al bano.'

Now, I hate Fridays at my house. In fact I try to stay away from them as much as possible by means of sleepovers and nonexistent parties, anything that will keep me away from the place.

My mum gets home early on Fridays.

She works at some tight-ass corporation selling heath insurance to the people who don't need it and denying it to the little bastards who do. She hates it. I hate the idea of it. But anyway, when she first got the job she was able to convince them that she was an orthodox Jew.

Oh my fucking god! There is no way in hell we are orthodox. Hell, we could hardly be called Jewish since my dad went on up…or down. I mean, fuck I haven't gone to synagogue since…hell I don't even know how long!

Any who, Friday evenings and Saturday mornings my mum got 'religious leave' from her prestigious job to celebrate the 'shabbas' or whatever the hell those good Jews call it.

This meant she was home. With me. In the same house. Together.

Dun, dun, dun.

As we neared my lovely abode I had to painstakingly drop the bomb to Sheena.

"I'm not letting you up there."

Of course as usual I sounded a hell of a lot meaner than I had intended to but I didn't really care. In fact, I had stopped caring last week when I realized Sheena could really give a shit about my tone as long as I was her friend.

"Skittery! My bladder is going to seriously burst! If you don't let me up I'm gonna pee right here in my pants…well ugly skirt."

As long as it showed her legs, I didn't think the skirt was ugly at all. Fucking gorgeous if you ask me.

"No, you can't go. I'm not letting you."

Suddenly realization spread over Sheena's beaming, yet screwed-up-in-agony face. "Oooooh, I see what this is!" Sheena giggled abruptly.

I found nothing funny. Sheena couldn't go up there. My mum was up there. Therefore Sheena couldn't go up there.

"Skits, I've already found your vodka. I've found your stash of condoms. In fact, I've even found your moms _female_ condoms. There's really nothing in your house I haven't seen, so no embarrassing mess is going to keep me away from that beautiful, wonderful toilet of yours."

"Nah, you don't understand, you gotta wait down here. The goddamn scariest creature in the world is waiting for me up there. You can't come up, I'll tie you to the door if have too."

I wouldn't tie her to the door…unless it was some new fangled sex position…hmmm… door sex…I shuddered with the allusion to fucking which in turn made me think about kissing Sheena.

This small truth had been in the back of my mind all through out the walk home. Even over Sheena's bladder complaints I could hear that small voice in my head saying…no...tauntingly singing 'you're going to kiss Sheena! Haha you sorry, sorry ass! You promised yourself and now you have to do it! Oh your poor fucker.' It didn't even wish me good luck!

As this thought popped in my head I mulled it over. Who would wish me good luck? I mean, Sheena would…if it wasn't her that I needed luck with. No but really…I mean who the fuck would wish me luck now! Not my mum who had no idea Sheena existed. Not mush or race who were usually the ones to get excited about stuff like that. Fuck, not even Kayla who would wish me luck on anything from a gym grade to… I dunno… well…anything.

And that made me sad.

All I had was Sheena. Besides her it was like I was dead to the rest of the world. She was the only thing that could prove my existence or even keep me anchored to reality. Like touch kept the deaf, dumb and blind boy from being a walking corpse. Sheena was proof that I hadn't become a walking corpse.

It was like how imagined would be like in space. Everything you've ever known or seen…back on earth. Who's to say you haven't died. Cause once you're feet lift off the ground you're a step farther away from society. A step closer to the unknown. Sure you have a faint idea of what's out there but really the only thing you know is that you're in space and the only thing you got is your crew.

There was me…and there was Sheena. And that was it.

* * *

simply horrible, right? yes yes indeed haha. wow i have a habit of ending all these chapters on such a down note. haha owell.

REVIEW!


	17. O Death xxx Ralph Stanly

agh the stupid bar thing wouldnt show up but w/e this looks better haha.

well hello again my ravid readers! remember me? the iresponisble author of paint it black who should have updated 3 months ago. i hope none of you lost intrest when i went dark. i know many of you are away now aswell but im updating all the same.

im not going to list any exscuses because i do not have the energy and there are far to many. but i do hope you will read, enjoy and reveiw for good RP.

I walked into an empty apartment. No mum. No mica. Nobody at all but me.

No mum meant no hell raising questions. And no hell raising questions meant that nothing would fuck up my kissing Sheena.

I strolled over to the fridge door and took a swig of a two-day-old beer before beginning to walk down the hallway towards my room; sure Sheena had to use the bathroom but what was the rush if my mum wasn't there. Hell, she could even come up if she wanted to.

Half way down the hall I was back at the fridge for another sip. I tried walking to my room once more. A quarter ways down the hall I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the beer and continued to mosey on down to my room. Upturning my black school bag onto the floor, I began to stuff it with masses of black cloth. Black Melvin's shirt. Black boxers. Black and red flannel. Black cords. Black toothbrush (a couple days earlier I had sharpied it black after a panic attack. Even still I could taste the teal green in my mouth, fucking rotting my teeth away.)

As I packed I began to muse; why wasn't my mum there any who? Hah maybe her boss found out she wasn't a fucking orthodox. Or what if she's just late. Aww holy fuck no, no, no. She's gonna run into Sheena. Calm down all right? I tried to pull myself together. How the hell she gonna know that I know Sheena? Huh? Nah, nah my mum's smart though. She'll put two and two together. She'll see Sheena, a crazy ass teenage punk downstairs and she'll think 'this looks like a friend of Michael's' and then she'll come up and she'll ask 'is that a friend of yours downstairs'…and I'll say no. No, I don't know her.

I took a deep breath trying to regain myself and not slip to far down that goddamn hole of terror. Everything was fine. I was making a mountain out of a mole hill- agh I hate that expression. But what happens when you're an ant and everything looks like mountains. Where's your perspective then, huh? Sheena was my perspective. Sheena wasn't…well she doesn't have whatever the hell I have. Her mind was...alright. She doesn't freak about every tiny itsie bitsy thing. She was my perspective. This was no biggie. I would go down stairs…calmly…and me and Sheena would just keep walking to her house.

Fuck, I'm crazy. I looked down at my shaking arms, my gaze traveling on up to the beer bottle, tightly grasped in my hand like a fucking tension ball. I took a long, long swig before storing the rest back in the fridge and heading out the door.

Fuck, I really am going insane.

"Glad to see the creature didn't eat you alive…or dead."

"Yeah the monster wasn't even there yet…guess she hasn't gotten out of work…"

I paused for a second, feeling I had to say something more. After all I had just denied Sheena potty privileges and for no reason. She was suffering in vain…Sheena…the girl I was gonna kiss. Agh, shudder. I searched my mind for something to say. Cept I couldn't think of anything. I mean…I never had to...Sheena always did…and she didn't really have to either cause she was always talking…she never let there be an awkward moment. I began to freak; but if I say something now she'll know its awkward cause neither of us has said anything for a while. She'll know I'm just trying to get rid of the awkwardness and trying to get rid of the awkwardness isn't…I dunno…well its fucked up.

I glanced over at Sheena who was quietly humming something to her self…maybe Sonic Youth...sounded like Sonic Youth. Did she find this awkward? Probably not...I mean she was singing and sorta in her own world. But singing could also be her way to ease the tension…maybe.

Finally, I couldn't take it.

"Hey, you ever think bout getting a tattoo?"

Agh bullshit! Fucking bullshit, man and she would know it. I could care less if she _thought_ about getting a tattoo once. Don't you hate that? When you ask something or say something that's complete bullshit but you cant really do anything about it. Like…when you meet a girls folks and you have to say 'nice to meet you' and 'I hope to see you around.' It's all fucking bullshit and you know it but you gotta say it anyway. It really pisses me off sometimes.

"Yeah of course…I mean…everyone does at some point."

Sheena had put on her intellectual tone, something she whipped out every once and a blue moon. Her intellectual tone wasn't even all that smart or shit. It just made sense. Sheena never made sense.

"Yeah, I guess." I muttered, shifting my bag onto my other shoulder as we walked up 34th street heading for the subway.

Not only was it a bullshit question but it had gotten a goddamn bullshit answer too. Aw fucking great, a bullshit conversation.

"Hey, ya wanna get one?"

Horay! Maybe it wouldn't end up being totally bullshit conversation. Maybe it would turn out to be an excellent conversation that decided a fucking awesome fate such as a tattoo.

"Yes!" I cried, trying desperately to sound as collected as possible, "oh man, yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

"Really!" Sheena began to squeal her high-pitched squeal, the squeal she squealed whenever she was scheming. Suddenly the squeal began to fade away and die, leaving an eerie tingle in the air, like when you use a capo on a depressing song, "wait…noooo! Wait, wait, wait…don't you have to be 18…or some fucked up age like that?"

Slowly my smile began to fade as well as if just seeing her smile disappear made mine wanna hide too. But it didn't want to hide…well…I mean it didn't have to. Yeah you had to be 18 to get a goddamn tattoo, but what the hell…we could be 18 if we fucking wanted to…fuck, I thought Sheena was 20 when I first saw her…and people always thought I was older then I actually am.

"Fuck, we are 18!" I smiled flirtingly "matter o' fact I was 21 a couple of months ago when I needed to buy a shit load of beer but then I lost my…21…year-old-ness…I guess when I 'ahem' misplaced my wallet."

Sheena breathed in a dramatic breath, her eyes growing wider and wider. Suddenly the breath stopped and an outrageously big grin appeared. This happened sometimes with Sheena. Naturally she's a pretty…hyper person so whenever there's any reason to be hyper she just starts smiling like an idiot. I can almost picture the excitement bubbling inside her when this happens; like a big cauldron of red sticky liquid and when it reaches a certain temperature, her body shuts down and all she can do is smile. I like thinking about it like that. Slowly the red gunk began to cool down and Sheena regained the use of her voice and legs.

We kept walking.

"Oooh man. Can we scheme tonight, please! Arg grrr acsh yes! Tonight, my unconventional conventionist, we toast! Haha sorry, I was in the moment…ummmm…" I watched her mind retrace its steps, "ah yes, tonight we will plan our tattoos."

Now me, when I'm beastly exited, I don't do much. I guess Sheena knows that. I goddamn hope she does. I always feel like if I'm too happy about something it'll somehow get fucked up no matter how favorable the odds are. Cause that's what happens. Things get fucked up. I connected with my dad and he got fucked up. Me and Kayla were going on 3 years and we got fucked. I guess it's like if you make something into such a big deal you're bound to be disappointed…but that's a fucking awful trick your mind plays on you by doing that. Kinda makes you scared to be happy, doesn't it? Like, by being happy you're only securing a miserable future. I hate the way that works.

Sheena seemed to have forgotten her full bladder so we made sure not to rush back to her house.

She hated her house. I didn't like it much either (someone was always home) but she really hated. She called it 'the double G' which I'm pretty sure stood for 'goddamn ghetto' even though the thing was huge and she practically had her own floor. It was part of a town house, ya see, and when her mom remarried after a divorce it was like combining super forces. RICH ASS INHERRITANCE WOMAN AND LAWYER MILLIONARE MAN…UNIGHT! Anyway they bought the two floors under them, built some stairs and walah…their Richie Rich lair was complete. Basically the 'lower level' was for sheena, her brother and their stepbrother while the upper floor was for the parents, her sister and her stepsister. The third floor was for the kitchen and all that shit. Besides, her brother was always at a girl's house and her step...people I guess were at their mum's mostly so Sheena really had the whole floor to herself any who. Ghetto my ass but whatever.

Anyway we stayed in the park for a bit. Smoked a pack so I guess you couldn't really call it 'a bit'. The park was pretty empty, it was fucking goddamn cold out for April and it looked like it was going to rain. The sky was murky and aging like a woolen coat that's been hidden in the closet too long. Looking up at it wiped the smile off your face. A couple of guys and a girl were snorting under the bridge, sitting very serenely in a circle. They looked almost painted…their shadows outlined by the afternoon sun.

"This is depressing." Sheena sighed loudly, flicking her ashes onto her skirt.

That was sexy.

"What is?" I murmured quietly, closing my eyes and inhaling a deep stale breath. We had been sitting on that fucking park bench for almost an hour and I really didn't feel like smoking anymore.

I pulled my feet into a ball and curled up in the blackness of my jeans. I wasn't sad or anything it just felt really nice at the moment. Sheena continued to stare at the group under the bridge.

"Them." She stated flatly, bringing the cigarette up to her lips.

She was good at saying things flatly. Somehow whatever she said was always dramatic even when it had absolutely no emotion. Fuck, I wish I knew how to do that…ya know…like be interesting and shit but without sounding completely gay. Sometimes, by accident, I would say something to Kayla and I wouldn't sound so goddamn passive in the slightest. It was sorta like a once in a blue moon type of thing but I liked it…ya know…being normal and all…it made me feel like I wasn't dead like Rita kept on telling me I was.

I closed my eyes again.

I felt dead. Maybe I am dead.

"Mama Sheena, I don't feel so good." I grumbled, peeking out from my black veil and opening one eye to see her reaction.

"Head, heart or body?" I ignored her question. One, because it was none of the above and two, because it was all of the above.

"I'm not, like…dead or anything right?"

I closed my eyes again and rested my head on my knees. My senses weren't working. My nose felt raw and numb, everything sounded muffled. A huge knot developed in my throat and it refused to be swallowed. Sheena didn't say anything. I felt a hand on my forehead and shuddered as is it combed my hair. Sheena scooched closer. I could feel her scooch closer.

The hair on my arms prickled as a steady gust blew our way; I heard Sheena's hat fall off the bench. It was getting late. Even though my eyes were closed I knew it was. I began to wonder if they slept under that bridge, the coke fiends. Or maybe they shared an apartment all together, a junkie haven. Does the girl have her own bed… probably not? They probably all took turns with her…probably pregnant with some STD by now. They looked about 20…25. Maybe they weren't even there anymore. I opened my eyes. They were still there.

"Fucking depressing. This whole…picture…this whole hour… shit, I feel awful." I muttered hoarsely, leaning my head against Sheena's shoulder. She continued to stroke my hair. I was glad. It felt nice. Made me feel a little less dead.

"We're depressing."

I didn't say anything…I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. That's the only social skill I can manage; not talking when there is nothing to be said.

"We can go…somewhere else if you want…not necessarily to mi casa but I dunno…somewhere more humane and animal friendly." Her normal exuberance slowly climbed back into her voice as she hauled herself out of her submissive pothole.

I shrugged. I knew she didn't want to go back home…not until she had to.

I looked up at the junkies again. I could tell they were running low cause of their faces. It always shows in peoples faces, that's just how fucking bad coke is. It's so…embedded in your mind, your need for it, that it takes full control of you…like water and food…like you can tell when someone needs food cause they've got that hungry look on them…these kids looked just as hungry. Theirs eyes darted back and forth from the little mat in the center of their group and the guy who was currently snorting their wonderland. He had blonde hair and when he finally straightened himself out, wiping his nose and that whole fucking shebang, you could tell he was or used to be a really good looking kid. Fuck I hate coke. It's the goddamn stupidest shit in the world. I remember once last year, blink came in boasting about the dealer he was dating and how she had 'supplied' him. And, man, I socked him. We were in the middle of math class but I didn't give a damn, I punched him as hard as I could in the stomach. Probably should've gone to the hospital (I'm pretty sure I did some damage to his ribs and all) but I think he was too goddamn scared the doc. would find out about his little adventure. Fucking idiots, all those crack heads. Cause one bad batch and your dead or worse you become like half dead and go around shitting in your pants and hurling all over the place. Like…I know its hypocritical for me to be saying all this cause I've done everything but meth which I'm scared shitless to even touch…but heroin and coke…that stuff fucks you over.

Anyway, the guy saw me staring and started looking me over; my head on Sheena's shoulder, my knees drawn to my chest, her skirt hitched way up high on her legs. A dopey smile spread all over his face. He was really pretty, like a beautiful looking guy, ya know…almost doll like… even if he was dirty and looked as if she had never slept in his lifetime. He blew a kiss my way and I managed to wink back so that he wouldn't think I was some fucking prude who was going to go ring up the cops.

I closed my eyes again and took the longest drag imaginable on my forgotten ciggie. Sheena had her arm around my neck and was slowly tracing figures on my chest with a slender finger but I had sorta forgotten about it. That happens a lot with her and Kayla too actually. I felt sorta dizzy and my eyes were all foggy. The knot had made it down my throat but was now stuck in my chest. I wanted to punch it out…I felt like maybe if I hit my chest hard enough the knot would come loose and be gone.

"Man, if I ain't dead I sure as hell am dying."

"Ugh your so very emo skits, and simply a joy to be with" Sheena slapped my knee playfully.

I know she didn't like where we were… I know I sure as hell didn't…which I guess gave us a good reason to get the fuck out of there. But I dunno… I felt bad making her go back to her house just cause I couldn't stomach reality.

"Fuck your emo too."

Sheena laughed dazedly, stretching out her arms and legs and letting out a short grown. "Fine we're both emo…but…I like to think of it as just more aware."

"Holy fuck, your emo…"

"Skittery dearest we just went over this…I am emo…you are emo…we do not like emo music but we are, in fact, emo. And I know this is hard for you to hear but you have just got to come to terms with it."

Fuck yeah it was hard to hear. I hated emo kids! I mean mostly just their music but I still hated them! And I knew I was emo I simply didn't like to admit it cause you know the less you talk about something the less real you make it. After a while you can just convince yourself it's all in your mind. Like when I found my dad looking at porn. After a while I just convinced myself it was ya know…just all in my head or I had dreamed it all up. If I had told someone I wouldn't have been able to convince myself. When I didn't talk about my emo-ness after a while I thought that it was just me and to the rest of the world I was normal. But I guess if Sheena was right there with me in that dark land of the emo people it was all right. I mean it wasn't all right cause I was fucking emo, but it would be okay.

"Hey lets get outa here…makes me wanna slit my wrists."

I could care less about how my voice sounded. One of the kids under the bridge had passed out on the girls lap and the blonde one was masturbating, groaning and moaning and all that shit.

"Agh!" Sheena bit her lip, looking around anxiously as she mulled over my proposition for the last time, "fine."

She ran her hand through her hair and, finding a cigarette I had put behind her ear while she wasn't paying attention, put her hand out for my lighter. I gave it to her roughly. Picking up my bag and hers, I tipped my hat to the druggies- who blew a kiss absentmindedly- and got the hell out of that park.

im trying to kick the habit of my one liner, pessimistic enders though know that it is implied.

i hope to post again fairly soon though dont count on it. only know that i would never dream of stopping paint it black so even if i only post a chapter a year, i will not drop this story.

please reveiw for my self confidence is on a decadent spiral


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